What Part of No Do you not Understand?
by GroovyKat
Summary: A follow-up fic to "No". When Princess goes missing and Mark is suspected of murder, it's up to the LVPD CSI unit to find her and to prove him innocent. Crossover with CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
1. Chapter 1

Another oldie. This one is technically a follow-on to the story "No". It isn't exactly necessary to have read that story to get a handle on this one, but it does follow.

This is a crossover between my first love, Battle of the Planets, and my ex-love CSI: Crime Scene Investigation. I am going to ignore the fact that both Grissom and Sara have left the show. The departure of these two killed the show for me (more with Sara's departure than Grissom's) … Because, to be honest, I can't stand Catherine … :shudder:

Now NCIS has taken over my heart as my favourite Crime Scene Drama….

Anyhoo. So this is obviously a Crime piece with lots of birdie goodness. Yah, this is also finished, but, like the mammoth hideous monstrosity AKA: "War" that I posted yesterday and today, I will be repairing some parts of it before posting.

Enjoy!

Oh, and as per the rules of Fanfiction: Disclaimer: G-Force and Anderson do not belong to me. Neither, for that matter, do any of the Las Vagas Crime team (Excluding Chris) …

~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~

**What Part of No (Do you not Understand)?**

[No: 2]

"My patience is wearing thin, Sarah. I have made repeated attempts to contact you to no avail. You ignore me.

_Why? Is it because you think you're too good for a man like me?_

_Is it because I'm not the Eagle – a man who you claim to have a crush on, according to your Facebook page? Do you honestly think, for one moment that a man like that would be interested in a dick-teasing little skank like you? _

_Or would you give up the game and open your legs for him?_

_You disgust me. You and all women disgust me. You're all filthy, dirty animals created not by God, but by the Devil. You were created solely for the destruction of the world. To torment men with your wily, sexual ways. You entrap and abuse us, burden us with your spawn, and humiliate any you deem unworthy._

_Women are the pith of the earth, the worst of all plagues. _

_Perhaps it is time to rid us of you all._

_I'll start, my dear, with you._

_Look over your shoulder, I'm right behind you._

_Chris"_

Princess pursed her lips and blew out a breath. These emails were becoming more and more frequent, with each one becoming more dark and threatening. This one was by no means the most threatening. Three nights ago she received an email written in Kidnap font about how he was about to abduct her and lock her in his basement. This one, however, was perhaps the most alarming. It threatened women in general as well as herself, and she had to wonder if it was time to succumb to the threats and make contact, just so she could assess the situation properly.

It was tempting to show her folder of nasty emails to Mark, her Commanding officer and lover. How tempting to curl up with her trademark pout in the arms of her lover and talk through what could possibly be a dangerous situation, but why bother? Even with almost 1GB of horrendous images and emails saved in a remote file in her documents, her course of action was limited. Unless he approached her directly and made a threat, or physically harmed her there was little that could be done.

And besides, she was the Swan of G-Force. She'd fought this man off before; of course she'd be able to do it again. There was no sense in bringing it up with Mark, or anyone in the Federation. She knew what would happen: Mark would turn more protective than normal, shadowing her every move. Jason would be the same, following her every move and threatening any male that came within a hundred feet of her. And of course, being that this fellow was the one who so horrifically attacked her, leaving her with bruises never even received in battle, it would drive the whole team insane. Mark and Jason were already on the warpath for this guy, she didn't need to offer them any more ammunition.

It was safer to just handle it on her own and ignore it. She could ward off and fight Spectran armies and enemies – she could handle a scrawny Star-Trek Klingon wannabe.

She sensed the approach of Mark from behind and used the alt+tab keystrokes to switch to a more "official" document. She leaned back into him as he slipped his arms around her waist from behind.

"Busy?" He asked, breathing minty-fresh breath across her cheek.

She closed her eyes and inhaled the fresh scent of Lever 2000 soap. "Reports," she sighed gently. "The Chief needs the final specs from the Rigan mission by tomorrow lunch time."

He sighed heavily and nuzzled his nose into her neck. "I think you need a break. You feel so tense."

A brow flicked upward as she felt his fingers tickle at her navel. "The sooner I can get it done, Mark."

He growled playfully and spun her chair around, pulling her to her feet and into his arms. "How about I order you to take a break?"

"Abuse of power, Commander," she giggled as his mouth found hers to try and coax her into a kiss. She pulled back and pressed her forefinger against his lips. "If I was Jason or Keyop, you'd insist I stay until it's done."

He groaned low and disappointed. "How long do you think?"

She slid away from him and backed up toward the desk. She wasn't surprised when he lowered his face to look at her as though she were his prey, so she held her hand in a stop position as he slowly advanced. "It'll be done when it's done. You know me, I like to be thorough."

His body slumped, but he smiled. "As long as it isn't one of Jason's reports I'll agree." He squinted his eyes to better focus on the small font on the screen. He saw her coded identification on the top of the report and looked back at her. "You'll join me when you're finished?"

She tipped a shoulder upward to meet her ear and gave him an innocent smile. "I'll try not to wake you."

"I'll try not to fall asleep," he smirked as he stepped back, dropped his towel and walked, naked, back into their bedroom. "Just a show of what you're missing, good night."

She blinked wide eyes at him as he waved his hand over his shoulder.

Cheeky bastard.

She shook her head to clear her mind of illicit thoughts and sat back down at the desk. There were more important things she had to worry about than … Mark. Naked.

Focus …

Her monitor gave a blink to announce a new email message. She held her breath as she opened her newest and most terrifying message yet.

"_Your boyfriend seems persistent. I find it somewhat amusing to see you tease him as much as you do others. He does have a fine physique …_

_Your time is coming, Sarah._

_Look out for the man in white wings and be careful what you wish for."_

She gasped and immediately pulled her chair out from underneath the desk. With a speed she didn't know she was capable of, she bolted to the window and peered around a curtain to see who might be watching her.

The night around the airfield was dark, quiet, and deserted. Mark had left the runway lights on, and there was an intermittent flashing of led light from the landing beacon, but she could see noone.

For the second time that evening, she felt arms around her, only this time they were firm and protective.

"Is everything okay, Princess? I heard you yelp."

She shuddered against him. "Uh, yeah, Mark. It's nothing."

He frowned and turned her to face him. "Your heart's racing, what's wrong?"

It was time for a quick save. She smiled and put on the most seductive pout she could. "I guess seeing you parade around the place naked does that to me."

He frowned doubtfully. "Then why are you looking outside as though Zoltar was lurking in the bushes?"

She shrugged. "You left the lights on. The beacon gave me a fright – I'm not used to the flashing."

He raised a brow and leaned across her to flick a switch behind her head. "There, they're off. Are you sure…?"

"Of course." She threaded both arms around his neck and lightly jumped to hook both legs around his hips. "I think I'm ready for that break, Commander."

~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~

"Stalemate," Doctor Gil Grissom of the Las Vegas Crime Lab hissed as he scanned over the last report given to him by the DNA analysis team.

Their latest case was, to put it playfully, a doozy. They had a serial case, a killer that stalked via the Internet. The killer had taken five victims in two years.

Victim one: Angela 20 years. Brunette, blue eyes, 5'7", Caucasian. Stalked via email from her Facebook page. Initiated a meeting with StarTrekkin, single date, friends say she didn't have another. Was repeatedly hounded via threatening emails. Missing report filed on the 20 December 2007, found dead five weeks later. Victim was bound and tortured, T.O.D. three days before she was found. Evidence of repeated sexual assault.

Victim two: Samantha 21 years. Blonde, blue eyes, 5'8", Caucasian. Stalked via email from her Facebook page. Initiated meeting with KlingonForever, single date, friends indicate there wasn't a second date. Was repeatedly hounded via threatening emails. Missing report filed on 13 February 2008, found dead seven weeks later. Victim had been bound and tortured, T.O.D. two days before discovery of body …

Victim three: Susan 20 years. Brunette, green eyes, 5'5", Caucasian. Stalked via email from her Facebook page. Initiated meeting with TrekFanatic …

Victim four: Adrien 22 years. Brunette, Brown eyes, 5'8", Caucasian. Stalked via email from Facebook …

Victim five: Kelly 20 years. Blonde, Blue eyes, 5'9", Caucasian. Stalked via email from Facebook …

He rubbed at his brow in an attempt to ward off a potential migraine. Two years of missing persons reports, miniscule pieces of evidence, dead bodies, vague witness reports … And nothing. Absolutely nothing to go on.

There was excitement over Sara's find of blood transfer on their latest victim's matted hair, and a partial fingerprint on the victim's pendant.

But nothing.

No hits on CODIS.

Nothing on AFIS.

Nothing.

He didn't want to have to file another "We've found nothing" report to the Sheriff's office.

With little or no budget left for the year, he couldn't think to bring on more staff, or ask his team to work more double shifts. Extra hands, and more sophisticated equipment would help his investigation and help put a killer away.

But budgets had been slashed, staff cut.

Where the Hell could he and his team go from here?

~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~

"_I'd most like to meet the Swan. I have a huge crush on her. I wouldn't mess around on my girlfriend for anyone, but the Swan … Well, I might have to take a moment to consider that. Perhaps Sarah might consider letting me have one night with her."_

Princess covered her mouth in her hand and giggled at Mark's Facebook profile. The man was usually so stoic and unamusing, but get him on the Internet and he could be the biggest joker around. Jason had warned her about his main page, and how she simply had to one night transform into birdstyle and make her Commander's night.

She'd promptly slapped him on the arm and told him to grow up.

Jason could be so juvenile sometimes.

She licked her top lip and opened up the window to type a reply-of-sorts to his comment.

"_Mark, my love. I will gladly grant you one evening with Madame Swan, if you grant me a long, hot,one-night stand with the Eagle – Or will you find yourself a costume with white wings and thigh-high boots and role-play Swan and Eagle with me?"_

She widened her eyes at her words and backspaced to remove the costume comment. Her asking for a night with the Eagle was enough.

It was funny how the two of them joked about Swans and Eagles. Call it a schizophrenic joke between them both. In combat, and wearing their respective birdstyle uniforms, they'd not entertain the thought of anything sexual. As Eagle and Swan they were detached from each other. He was Commander, she his third.

It was better that way.

They had different personalities after transmutation. She couldn't love Mark, the Commander, like she loved Mark, the person. When he wore the white wings of the Eagle, he could actually scare her. She claimed that this explained her own abrupt personality change from confident and playful, to demure, innocent, and shy when she changed into the Swan's wings.

It was better that way.

Add to that the Phoenix was a dangerous playground to play in. Although, when she was civilian, there was always the fantasy that Mark would drag her into the weapons bay of their giant warship and show her just how Commanding he could really be.

The thought made her blush as her computer blipped a new email message. With a smile and slowly cooling cheeks, she clicked "read."

"_Sarah, have some self-respect, will you? Sexual innuendo is the resort of low-life prostitutes. You are showing yourself to be nothing but a harlot._

_Someone needs to tie you to a wall and beat some sense into you. You need to be forced to see just how dangerous women like you are._

_You want the Eagle? I warn you, be careful what you wish for, because he might not be as wonderful as you think he is._

_Chris"_

She let out a long-suffering sigh. It hadn't even been thirty seconds since she posted her comment to Mark's page. Chris must be permanently online stalking her every damn move.

Asshole.

With a narrowed gaze and curled lip, she hit "reply".

"_Chris._

_Consider this a warning._

_Leave me the Hell alone. I am not interested in you and never was. I felt pretty sure that I made that clear after I introduced your face to my knee and left you lying in the mud after our date._

_If you continue to harass me, I will personally contact the Eagle and the Condor and hand them your contact information._

_Sarah"_

She groaned after hitting send. What a stupid, juvenile thing for her to say.

Another blip and she shook her head to read his response.

"_Well. Well. Well, Sarah. What a cute threat to make. I am absolutely shaking with fear at the threat of Eagle/Condor retribution._

_Not!_

_Nice outfit, by the way. Your bra strap has fallen off your shoulder, please be a lady and pull it back up._

_Chris"_

Her breath stopped as her hand shifted to her arm to pull up the offending little strap of elastic. Her strap had, indeed, fallen.

He was watching her.

For the second time in as many days, she let out a loud gasp and flew out of her chair. She had her yo-yo in her hand, ready to fire, as she bolted to the front door and burst out into the moonlight.

"Where are you?" She yelled into the darkness. "Show yourself, stop being a coward!"

There was movement out of a shadow beside her, and before she had a chance to think, she flicked her wrist and let the yo-yo's sharp pointed end seek out its target.

A hand with a blue driving glove on it jutted out of the darkness and caught the head of the yo-yo with exact precision.

She yelped and pulled back on the string, trying to recoil her weapon. "I warned you, leave me alone!"

Steeled blue eyes, serious and dark, appeared out of the shadows. "Princess?"

Her breathing continued as a pant even as she recognized her Commander in front of her. His expression was all Eagle as he kept hold of her weapon and demanded an answer. Her voice shook, "Commander. It's you."

"Who were you expecting?" His voice was monotone and concerned, fully alarmed and aware of her panic. Her actions warned of potential enemy presence. Concern and comfort could come after the threat was neutralized.

She recoiled the weapon from his grip and looked around nervously before she let out a long breath and collapsed against him. "God, I had an awful dream."

It was a bad lie, but it should fool him enough.

The mask of the Eagle remained firmly in place as he set his hands on her shoulders and lightly pushed her far enough away for him to read her expression. "A dream? Princess, you've been skittish for the past few weeks, is there something; a threat; that I need to know about?"

"No," she lied.

He narrowed his eyes at her, waiting for a shift in her expression to warn him she was being untruthful. "Are you sure?"

She maintained her expression as best she could. "Yes, Commander. I just had a bad dream, that's all."

"And that made you storm out here wielding your weapon ready to attack?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes."

His brow flicked doubtfully. "Since when …"

She shrugged and attempted to remain as nonchalant as possible. "Oh I don't know, Commander, maybe I'm pregnant. They say your dreams get pretty damn vivid when you're expecting."

The mask of Eagle fell, and Mark's blue-eyes sparkled. "Really?"

She winced at his reaction – definitely not the right excuse. She slowly closed her eyes and smiled as she shook her head. "No. I'm fairly certain I'm not."

Mark actually seemed mildly disappointed. He slid his hands down her arms and took her hands in his. "Then what's wrong, Sweetheart?"

She pulled her arms behind her to draw his around her waist. She kept her hands on his, even as he pressed his palms into the small of her back. "I don't know," she sighed. "I guess I'm waiting for our bubble to burst and for something bad to pull us apart some way."

"Don't think that way, Princess."

She sighed and lifted her chin to rest it on his shoulder. She peered cautiously toward the hangar where she could see the nose of the civilian G1 aircraft. "How did she do out there tonight?"

He drew her to his side and slowly walked the two of them toward the dimly lit tin hangar. "In bird mode she flies perfectly. The laser hit to the right thruster didn't to as much damage as I thought. I may have to dock with the Phoenix manually, but she's definitely fine for combat if we get called in before I can have it repaired."

She pursed her lips. "In Cessna mode?"

"Shaky," he answered with a sigh. "She's only a single engine, so the hit damaged some wiring. The propeller cuts in an out."

"That's dangerous…"

He smiled. "For an inexperienced pilot, yeah."

She gave a laugh. "Oh but you, Mr. Ace himself, can handle a nose diving Cessna."

"Of course." He stepped ahead of her into the hangar and dramatically pulled her into him again, spinning the two of them around before seating her on the wing of his aircraft. "If things get too scary, I'll just transmute into Birdstyle and give the jet engines the jolt to start."

"You have an answer for everything, don't you?"

He winked. "A brilliant tactician, remember?"

"And very self assured."

He growled playfully and stepped in between her legs. He tugged on her hips to slide her closer to him, and leaned in to kiss her. "You have to love yourself before you can love another."

She smiled into his kiss. "Is that a declaration?"

"That I love you?"

"Uh-huh."

He ran his hand along her thigh and hooked her knee behind his hip. He coaxed her backward across the plane's wing. "Need me to prove it?"

"Out here?"

"It's just you and I here, Princess. Why not?"

When his lips met her neck, she looked warily into the darkness.

Were they really alone?

~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~

An exhausted Sara Sidle leaned a shoulder against the doorway of her supervisor's office and lingered a few seconds watching him bite distractedly at a sandwich as his eyes scanned a file in front of him. She smiled as his glasses slowly slipped down the bridge of his nose, and then at him groaning as he used his index finger to push it back in place via the nosepiece.

"You think that if you look at the same evidence information long enough it might change?"

He kept his body hunched in his study pose, but lightly raised his head and eyes to her so that he regarded her over the top rims of his glasses. He wiped absently at a dab of mayonnaise on the corner of his mouth. "There's got to be something more that I'm missing, Sara."

She peeled herself from the door and slid across the floor toward his desk. She made an exaggerated show of leaning across to look at what he was reading and tilted her head. "I doubt that there's anything beyond what you see in a DNA analysis report, Grissom. It's pretty conclusive."

He nodded and removed his glasses, rubbing tiredly at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "I'd suggest you just humour me, but I know you don't do that."

"It just wastes time."

"Which we don't have."

She clicked in air through the side of her mouth and set another file on his desk. "I wish I had better news for you, but it looks like we hit another dead end with trace."

He let a brow flick and quickly opened the file. He scanned the report for a few seconds. "Soap?"

"Dove, to be exact," she sighed.

He closed the file and sat back in his chair. "Which seventy percent of the population uses."

"Actually it's probably closer to forty but …" she stopped when his eyes flicked at her in annoyance. "Sorry."

"So he holds them captive for weeks at a time, keeps them clean and well groomed, while beating, raping and torturing them." His arms folded across his chest. "What do the SAE findings say?"

"He wore a condom. Latex, lubricant, spermicide, the whole shebang."

He looked down at the desk and dropped his hand to it to tap a single finger repeatedly on top of an Entomology article. "Catherine confirmed that the outfit our victim was found wearing didn't belong to the victim."

"Which is fairly obvious considering she was a club-hopping, attractive young woman well immersed in the haute couture culture, and the outfit something from Leave it to Beaver."

His eyes asked her to stop being a smartass, but his mouth voiced something else. "Aside from the Facebook site, are there any other commonalities between the victims?"

Catherine's voice answered the question, which made Sara jerk in surprise.

"Nothing, Gil. Apart from the obvious, these girls had absolutely nothing that would tie them together."

He tilted his head at her and pressed the ear-hook of his glasses' arm against his bottom lip. "So this is just a random internet selection?"

"It appears that way." She walked in beside Sara and flicked her strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder before she leaned over Grissom's desk and pressed her hands onto the surface. She spoke as she let her eyes scan over Sara's report. "The handles he uses are all Star Trek based, but his targets usually aren't fans of the show."

Sara smirked. "Show me a woman that is."

Catherine had a silent snicker that was further silenced by Grissom clearing his throat. "All of the girls are just your typical pretty young women looking for some online fun." His lips pursed into a pout. "What about their discussion topics? Is there a theme that binds them?"

Catherine raised a coy brow that showed a slight bit of humour. "Yeah. The G-Force Eagle."

That got both Grissom and Sara's attention. It was Sara who spoke first. "What kind of connection? Were they conquests of the Eagle?"

Grissom flicked his eyes to Sara. "That would indicate a commonality, Sara."

She rolled her eyes and smirked at her own stupidity. Catherine snorted and shook her head. "No, they all listed a crush on him."

"That doesn't really give us much, Cat," Sara offered. "Every woman on the planet has a crush on the Eagle."

Grissom raised a questioning brow. "All brawn and no brains," he remarked jealously.

Catherine sighed and set her hands on her hip. The movement slouched her hip to one side to that she appeared to be regarding her two coworkers in a sultry manner. "It's what gets the juices flowing, Gil. He's a good looking guy. He's a hero. He's …"

"In love with the Swan," Sara finished. "That's what makes him so appealing. He's a hero who's unattainable."

Catherine frowned. "There's been no confirmation that he and the Swan are anything besides teammates. I mean, have you ever seen them at Press Conferences? They couldn't be more detached from each other."

Sara shrugged and looked at Grissom. "Need you be reminded of Brad and Angelina?"

Grissom groaned loudly. "Is there any chance that we can cease and desist all speculation as to whether the Swan and Eagle are involved, and get back on topic?"

Catherine smiled. "I thought the Eagle was the topic."

Grissom raised his eyes to her and offered her an unimpressed look. "Have Archie isolate all Facebook users in the General Las Vegas area and tag any that refer to their attraction to G1. From there, I want you to isolate any that have friends on their list with Star Trek handles."

Catherine smiled and set a thin stack of papers onto the desk in front of him. "Already done, Gil. You have 500 potential victims."

He groaned and dropped his forehead on the desk. "How many of them can we actually make physical contact with?"

"About half. We can search via IP, but that'll take some time, with wireless, these kids can pretty much hack in anywhere."

Catherine dropped her head and studied her exhausted friend for a long few seconds. Finally she turned to Sara. "Do me a favour, Sara. Get him out of here, take him to lunch, to bed, or wherever. Just force him to take a break."

Sara winced and shuddered at Catherine's blunt request. She sighed and walked behind the table to her supervisor. "I'll take him to lunch."

She picked up the handset from the phone at Grissom's desk. "I'll make some calls and see if we have a way of sending a bulletin to these girls."

~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~

"_I'll see you at 8 then, Princess. Don't be late."_

Princess giggled and blew a couple of kisses at her communicator in response to Mark. There was no way she was going to be even a nano-second late for this evening; he'd been planning it for about a month. In her own mind and daydreams she had a feeling she knew why it was so important to him. It wasn't just for the fact that today marked the 12-month anniversary of the first time they kissed and made love. There had to be more to it than that. It made her heart flutter to speculate as to his excitement.

Was he going to get down on his knee tonight?

She didn't want to get her hopes high at the thought, but it was fairly hard not to. Mark wasn't an easily excitable person, for him to be so insistent and coy about what the evening had in store for them, it had to be so much more than just a dinner, dancing, and then sex.

She walked on air as she breezed past the small back window of Jill's diner. If there were any person in the world who she'd love to spend the afternoon with speculating, it would be her. She might have had several years on Princess, but Jill was as young minded as she was. It was her intention to drag Jill out shopping for something extra special for the night.

Before she rapped her knuckles on the alley-facing door of the venue, she glanced upward to the main security camera and waved.

With the bulk of her clientele being members of G-Force, the Red Rangers Squadron, and the Federation, Jill was very security minded. Around this small area there were at least five cameras, one on display at the front door, one at the back, and the others hidden out of view.

Princess briefly considered doing a cute dance in front of the camera for Jill, to make her laugh, but decided instead to press her fingers to her lips and blow a kiss.

A whisper of her birth name behind her forced her to quickly turn around.

"Who's there?"

"Hello, Sarah," a familiar male voice answered from her left. "Long time no see."

Her eyes widened as she quickly flicked her head to look past her shoulder at the owner of the voice. Her hands balled into fists, ready to strike past her face for transmutation should he be carrying a weapon.

"Chris?"

He chuckled low as he stepped out from behind a large trash container. "In the flesh."

All nervousness quickly left her when she saw his attire. She stifled a smile and deliberately, viciously, ran her eyes up and down his body.

"Have you given up on your dreams of becoming a Klingon and decided to try your hand at becoming the G-Force Eagle?"

He set his hands on his hips and puffed out his lycra-covered chest in a superhero pose. "I am the Eagle, Sarah."

She pressed her fingers to her lips and giggled. "Oh. Uh. Really? But I thought you were a Klingon?"

He didn't like the doubt in her tone. "What were you expecting?"

She shrugged and flicked her hair over her shoulder in a flippant, arrogant manner. "Oh, I don't know. For the Eagle to be someone who didn't get his scrawny ass kicked by a woman."

His look darkened and he circle closed a set of homemade spandex wings around himself. "I am loathe to strike a woman."

Her lip curled in a smile. "Oh I see." She shrugged a shoulder and walked to the door. "Oh well, I can't say it was nice to see you again, but goodbye." She opened the screen door and paused a second. Her head turned to look at him over her shoulder. "Oh, and by the way. Leave me alone will you? My boyfriend is the jealous type, and …" she smirked. "He's definitely more Eagle than you are."

He moved quickly and was pressed up behind her before she inhaled a breath. "Just because he flies a pissy little Cessna, Sarah," he hissed against her ear. "Doesn't mean he is half the Eagle I am. I fly a jet and Command the Phoenix."

She shuddered at the stale smell of Doritos on his breath. Nerves tingled on her skin at the touch of sweat-damp lycra against her arms. "I said back-off," she growled. "I am not someone you really want to play this game with."

"You have little choice. I told you that someone needed to teach you a lesson." He stuck something small and hard into her ribs. "Consider this lesson one."

Her head ticked to one side as she tried to establish exactly what his choice of weapon was. "Don't start something you can't finish, Chris. You've just crossed the line between mischief and a felony here."

"I have immunity," he hissed into her ear. "I'm the damn Eagle. I can make up any line of bullshit to turn it against you – it's what I'm good at."

She growled low. If she was going to be brought down by a nutcase that wasn't Zoltar, then she was going to go down fighting.

"How dare you insult him like that," she snarled as she dropped her hand and snagged his wrist. In a move that rivaled the whirlwind attack, she had his wrist in his hand and had spun to face him. She increased the pressure of her grip, forcing him to a knee on the ground. "You have no idea who he is."

She glared down at his weapon, snarling when she saw it was a water pistol. "What the Hell?" She threw his arm back at him and turned sharply, arrogantly, on her heel. "Now get out of here before the real Eagle swoops down here and gives you a lesson of his own."

On his knees and holding on to his wrist, Chris weighed his options. This girl was far more feisty and aggressive than any of the others. Chances were she would survive him much better and longer than his previous "girlfriends". He slowly threaded his hand to the back of his costume and retrieved a large taser device from his belt.

"I'll teach you to be a lady," he growled, hoping for her to turn around so that he could see her reaction as he pumped her lithe little body full of electricity.

She responded to his inner desire by turning sharply and raising her wrist to her face. "I warned you, asshole, now …." Her brows knitted together in an angry glare as she called out "G-Force Transmute!"

As she called out a command he didn't recognize, nor understand, Chris lunged at her. The tazer locked on her upper thigh and crackled a blue line of electricity.

Her eyes flashed and body tensed, dropping her arm from her face to abort her transformation into G-Force Swan. She loudly called her Commander's name as she fell to her knees, partially paralyzed by the shock, but still conscious.

Chris frowned at the ineffectiveness of his weapon; it had worked so well with his other conquests. He growled a laugh as he increased the charge, but still she remained conscious. She seemed to fight against it, using a long yell to force her hands to clumsily swipe at the weapon against her leg.

"Don't fight it," he warned. "I'll kill you before I let you go. Don't make me kill you, Sarah."

She stared at him, her eyes wide and desperate. Her mouth gaped open with her facial muscles unable to release and let her close it. "Mark!" she slurred in as much of a yell as she could. "Help me…"

Her eyes fell to her communicator as she felt the energy increase. With her remaining strength she tried to lift it to her mouth. "G …. G ….G3 to…"

Chris set the tazer to the highest setting, finally dropping is prey unconscious to the ground. He smiled as he watched her lifeless body twitch on the bitumen.

"I warned you, Sarah."

He dropped beside her and growled in disappointment at having to kill someone who seemed like she'd be the perfect wife.

"What a waste," he grunted as he checked for a pulse. His eyes widened when he felt one, heavy and strong. "Interesting. That charge should have killed you."

Ignoring the shuffle of feet scurrying away in the alley, he took hold of Princess' hands and dragged her along the bitumen toward his car.

"Time to come home, Sarah. I'll make you a lady."

~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~

"_9-1-1. What's your emergency?"_

"_Uh, uh. I think I just witnessed a murder."_

"_A murder? Where are you?"_

"_I'm at the corner of Jarvis and Apex. In the Alley behind Jill's."_

"_The police are on their way, are you in danger?"_

"_No. Uh. No. But … But … The Eagle!"_

"_Wait. Did you say the Eagle? As in G-Force? Is he the victim?"_

"_No. No. He was the one who killed her. God, I just can't believe … I saw him kill her … I'd never believe it."_

"_Just stay where you are. The police are on their way."_

"_He just killed her. No reason. He attacked … She didn't do anything wrong. He killed her then just took her."_


	2. Chapter 2

Grissom pushed his salad around the plate as Sara vainly tried to engage him in conversation that didn't involve a serial killer stalking girls on the Internet. Ordinarily his attention would be all hers, he'd listen to every word that left her delicious lips. Today was different. Five girls were already missing. Five girls, in the prime of their lives, taken and forced to die brutal deaths, and they had nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

"Maybe I'll have more luck getting your attention if I let you analyse what information we do know about all this," Sara tried finally, tiring of having to continually prompt him with grunts of his name.

He raised his eyes to her and dropped his fork onto his plate. "I'm sorry, Sara. I'm just frustrated. We have so much to go on, yet we have absolutely nothing."

She sighed. "Not that I want to tempt fate or anything, but we really need another victim. Preferably someone we can link to the case before they end up dead."

He huffed. "Impossible. Absolutely impossible. We can't link them until we find their body." He folded his arms and leaned them on the table. He looked out of the diner window to a police car with sirens blaring speeding past. "We have no witnesses to any abduction, so how can we?"

She shrugged. "Now we know the general criteria for a victim, we should be able to link the next missing girl on our list of 500, should one go missing."

"You know the statistics for…?" He paused at the sound of his cell-phone. He flipped it open and kept his gaze out of the window. "Grissom."

"_Gil, it's Jim. You and Sara anywhere near Jills?"_

He raised a brow at the sound of Jim Brass' voice on the other end of the phone. Not particularly wanting extra company that would prolong his absence from the lab, but also not wanting to be rude, he let out a snort. "We're inside, why?"

"_Grab your kits and meet me out the back. We've got a big one."_

"Unless it pertains directly to the serial case, I really don't have the time. Call dayshift."

"_What if I tell you that the Eagle has been accused of murder?"_

The question was as successful as Brass had intended. Grissom's attention was sparked. "The Eagle?"

"_Abduction and murder."_

Grissom drew his wallet from his pocket and dropped two $20 bills on the table. "Sara and I'll meet you there." He held out his hand to help her out of her chair. "Looks like Kharma might be on your side today, Sara."

~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~

The officers were still stringing the Crime Scene tape when Sara and Grissom stepped into the alleyway, evidence collection kits in their hands. Grissom paused to survey the scene for a moment before he considered approaching Las Vegas' most colourful detective.

Even though it was late afternoon, and the sun was high in the air, the alleyway was fairly dark. It wasn't exactly a tight alley, there was enough room for a large garbage truck to come through and release or retrieve a garbage container.

There were the standard puddles of fluids best left unsmelled in front of the garbage container and beside the rear door. No evidence to suggest they were stomped in. However, one rather large puddle about five feet away from the back step of the door had obvious drag marks.

He slowly set his kit on the ground and crouched before it, keeping his eyes on the drag marks as he retrieved his camera.

"Sara," he called without looking at her. "Over here."

She was far less systematic on her approach of the evidence. She was careful not to compromise any trace or evidence left behind, but seemed to have some more energy than her older partner. "What do you have?"

He held his camera with both hands, and was crouched in front of the puddle, but managed to point out his findings. "Maybe we'll find some fiber transfer on the bitumen."

She leaned over his shoulder and squinted for better focus at the ground. "I'll go get some tags and bags."

Sara's departure gave way for Jim Brass' arrival. "This one's a doozy, Gil."

Grissom shut one eye and looked through the viewfinder of the camera. He held his breath as he snapped off a couple of pictures, then lowered the camera and set a small, black and white measuring marker around a small piece of fabric. "You don't honestly believe the Eagle did this, do you?"

"Eyewitness says he did."

Grissom snapped another picture, then raised his eyes to Brass. "Witnesses can be mistaken, Jim."

Brass smirked. "Yeah, I know. But you also know protocol. We gotto call him in for questioning."

"I wish you luck on that."

Brass pursed his lips and watched as his friend snapped off more photographs and set the camera on his knee as he tweezered up a piece of fabric. "The diner's got security cameras all over the place. I spoke with the owner and she's willing to provide us with any footage necessary." He cleared his throat. "She also swears that there's no way the Eagle – she called him Mark – would be responsible for this."

He rocked his rump back onto his ankles and hummed thoughtfully. "Use of his first name. Sounds like she's familiar with him. She may be worth talking to."

Brass thumbed over his shoulder. "This is a Federation hang-out, chances are she's seen him here a few times."

"Then she can probably identify him from the security footage."

"That's the idea," he droned slowly.

Grissom's lips twitched in thought as he held the fabric up into the light. "Have you contacted the Federation, yet?"

"I've got Sophia doing it now."

~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~

Mark sat, cross-legged, at the base of his mother's gravesite, staring at the faded photograph of her. His thumb stroked slowly along the softest black velvet on a small box held protectively in his hands. As was usually the case when he visited his parents, Mark sat in silence for a long thirty minutes in contemplation before he actually spoke.

He cleared his throat and lowered his head in respect of his two deceased parents. "Mother. I wanted you to be the first to know." His eyes raised and focused on the recessed wording on her gravestone. "I've found someone I feel is worthy of wearing your ring. I plan on asking her to marry me this evening over dinner." His head tilted, and although his gaze remained on his mother's gravestone, his focus was on the image in his mind of his beloved's smile. "She's amazing, Mother. I know you'd love her just as much as I do. She's. She. I." He smiled at his own inability to voice what was in his mind. "She leaves me speechless, obviously."

He slid his feet along the grass to free himself from a Lotus position and raised his knees to his chest. His arms circled around and his hands met in the middle to cup the small box. "I know I'm still so young. I should wait, make sure, and plan my life and future before I take a bride." He inhaled and shifted his eyes to the smallest purple flower growing beside the stone. "But I also know that my time here is limited. At any time I can be pulled from this life. I want to make the most of it while I still can."

He opened the box, smiled at the glistening diamond, and stared at it as he spoke. "Princess is worth the risk, really. She …" he smirked as he stumbled again. "You know, mother. She and I were preordained for this. The Gods actually sent her to me for this purpose, and this purpose alone. I know it. I know that she is the one who I am supposed to … " He looked up at the gravestone again. "She walked into my life as you slipped out of it. I was only a kid, but you know. I knew from the moment I saw her that she was the one. I fought it for so long, listened to everyone else and made some bad, bad decisions about her – but she always stuck with it. She was always there. Always."

He grunted as the phone at his hip vibrated. Annoyed that he was being interrupted whilst conversing with his mother, he was gruff when he flipped it open.

"What?"

Jill's voice came though sounding somewhat shaky. "Mark, it's Jill. Are you okay?"

He ran his hand though his bangs and dropped his head as he clutched a handful of his hair. "Yeah, I'm sorry. I'm at the cemetery."

She let out a sigh of relief. "Tell me you've been there a while."

"At least 45 minutes, why?"

She sucked in her bottom lip, moving the top one across it as she contemplated the best way to tell him what she knew. "Uh. Mark, you're being accused of murder."

"What?" The word escaped his mouth before he had a chance to actually digest the sentence.

"Yeah, uh. I have the police here at the diner. Apparently there is a witness saying he watched you kill and drag away a woman."

"Do I need to tell you how preposterous that sounds?"

She let out an uncomfortable laugh. "Yeah, I know, eh?"

He drew himself to a stand and slowly wandered to his car, aware that at any second his communicator might chime with a demand from Anderson. "How long ago did this supposedly happen?"

"About 30 minutes ago."

"Where?"

She cleared her throat somewhat sheepishly. "In the alley out the back."

He sniffed and opened his car door, wanting to let it air of heat before he climbed in. "And you didn't hear anything?"

"Dinner rush, Mark. I was in the front."

He groaned and rubbed at his brow as he leaned his arm along the top of the open door. "You have security cameras all over the place, what do they show?"

"I don't know. The police have already confiscated all of my surveillance equipment."

He tapped his fingers on the door as his lips pursed. "So they have everything?"

"I'm afraid so, Mark." She let out a breath. "You know about that serial killer, right?"

"Yeah."

"They aren't playing games anymore. They'll take damn well everything they find no matter how irrelevant it is. Shit you could take a leak in the gutter, and because it's technically something illegal, the CSI unit will swab it up and try to link it somehow to the case." She lowered her voice as if there may be police presence around her. "Mark, I don't know what you want to do. These guys are on the absolute warpath right now, it might not be a good …"

"Jill," he interrupted softly. "I'll go and talk to them."

"Are you sure? Maybe you might want to have Anderson look into it somewhat before you throw yourself at the mercy of Vegas' finest."

He laughed on a breath. "I have nothing to hide, Jill. I'll head down to the station now, and try to diffuse the situation before the press get hold of this and blow it out of the water."

"I'm sorry, Mark."

"Don't be," he assured softly. "Thanks for the heads up." He pursed his lips. "Oh, Jill."

"Yes?"

"When you see Princess, can you let her know I might be a little late, myself, for the dinner tonight."

She was silent for a moment. "Princess? I'm not expecting her."

He blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I had no plans with her today."

"But you sent her an email. When I spoke with her about half an hour ago she was on her way to see you."

"Oh," she seemed confused. "I don't remember … but you know, I forget a lot of shit."

He laughed and looked down at his communicator as it chimed. "Oh damn. Look, I have to go, Jill. Looks like the Federation have already caught wind of this. Thanks again, hey, and don't worry. I'll get it sorted out."

He snapped the phone closed as she was saying her own goodbye and raised his communicator to his mouth. "This is G1, Chief. Go ahead."

"Commander. We have a problem."

"I know Jill filled me in."

"Are you on your way?"

Mark sighed. "Yes, Chief."

~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~

The Eagle was in his full regal glory when he strode through the front doors of the Las Vegas Police Department. He ignored the oohs, aahs, and whispers from those around him as he strode confidently toward the reception desk.

The receptionist, a short blonde woman named Judy, gasped when she saw the blue glass visor of the Eagle. "Oh my. Good evening, Sir. How can I help you?"

A short breath hissed out of his mouth as he let his eyes scan from side to side at small groups of people watching him amid whispers. "I'd like to speak with the lead detective on the murder abduction case from Jill's Diner."

She pursed her lips, as yet uninformed of the latest case. "Oh. I haven't been given any information on a new case. If you want to take a seat and wait, I'll phone Detective Brass."

He gave a nod, but didn't move to take a seat. Instead, he turned and pulled his wings closed to cover his chest. He closed his eyes and lowered his head, not in contemplation, but to attempt to filter out annoying conversation to focus on something a little more interesting. A deep voice with a definite Texan accent seemed to hold the information he was looking for.

"_You're kidding me, right? The Eagle?"_

"_That's what Sara said. She's sending in the surveillance tapes with Brass and Grissom. They should be here any minute."_

"_Damn, Greg. That seems like a crock to me. The Eagle's the good guy."_

"_Yeah, Nick. But you know they linked all the Serial cases to the Eagle, don't you?"_

"_Oh come on. You can't be serious. What kind of link?"_

"_Not too sure, Cat and Archie are working on some Internet connection thing that involves something about him. She's not giving out much information on it." _

Mark's eyes flashed open.

What the Hell kind of link can connect him with a serial case?

Before he could speculate further, Judy's voice pulled his attention back to the desk.

"Mr. Uh. Eagle? Detective Brass has asked that I take you to interrogation. He's about five minutes away." She stepped out from behind the desk and timidly began to walk down a corridor. "Please follow me. Do you need a coffee or anything while you're waiting."

He was guarded as he walked two steps behind her. "I appreciate the offer, but no thank you."

She unlocked a door and stood beside it to let him enter. "You'll be meeting with Detective Brass and Doctor Grissom very shortly. Is there anything you need in the meantime?"

He offered her a smile. "Are you this accommodating with all suspects, Ma'am?"

She blushed and lowered her head. "I'm sorry, it's just … um …Please take a seat, they won't be long."

He stepped into the sterile room and immediately took up position in the darkest corner. He leaned his back into the corner and folded his arms across his chest. There was no doubt in his mind they'd accept his alibi and assurance he had nothing to do with the murder, but was curious as to what, exactly, they had on him to require the gossip.

What link was there?

Did this mean that the Federation could finally sink their teeth into an investigation they'd been keenly following?

Princess would love to take part in this – investigation and intelligence research was her forte. Much more than explosives, electronics and first aid, she loved to seek out new information.

The thought of her made him smile – a smile that faltered immediately upon the arrival of two middle-aged men into the room. The younger looking of the two, a short man with dark hair and worry-creased face, immediately extended his hand in greeting.

"Thank you for coming down so quickly, Eagle. I'm Detective Brass, this is Doctor Grissom of the Crime lab."

Mark looked down at the offered hand, considered letting him hang, and finally unfolded his arms to give a firm shake. "I'm eager to prove my innocence, Mr. Brass. Please, call me Mark."

Brass waited until Grissom had taken his customary slouched and thoughtful place at the edge of the table and then swept his hand to a seat across from him. "Please, Mark. Take a seat."

"I'd much rather stand, thank you."

"As you wish." He took a seat and opened a poorly organized file. "You'll have to excuse us. We haven't had time to prepare properly for your questioning. I don't exactly have all the information yet."

Mark flicked his eyes to Grissom, who sat back in his chair with his legs crossed, elbow on his knee and chin pincered between his thumb and index finger. His eyes switched back to Brass. "Then for now let's talk about what you do know. I expect your team are currently processing what you brought back from the scene,"

"Indeed."

"So. You want to know why whereabouts for the day so far?"

Brass smirked. "You've done this before?"

Mark's expression remained stoic. "Let's just say I watch Law & Order and CSI a lot. My girlfriend is somewhat addicted to crime shows."

The admission caused a snort of amusement from Grissom, but he said nothing. Brass, for his part, folded his arms and leaned back in the chair his eyes flicked to Grissom. "So does she listen to the scanner and read textbooks, too?"

Mark frowned. "I don't follow."

He waved his hand. "Don't worry about it. It's an in-house joke. So, tell me what you've been doing today."

Mark stepped out of the corner and leaned on the back of a chair. "I've been running around preparing for a special dinner tonight with my girlfriend."

"Was she with you?"

He shook his head. "No. What I had to do I didn't exactly want her to know about." He read a smartass expression on the detective's face and actually smirked. "Which did not involve murdering and abducting women."

"Do you have any witnesses at all that can account for your activities?"

Mark pursed his lips. "Not as the Eagle, Mr. Brass."

"Jim…"

"Jim. I can provide alibi for my civilian identity, will this suffice?"

Brass shrugged. "It should."

"If I am to offer you further information on my civilian identity, I want to ask that you empty the adjacent room of spectators." He jutted his head to the one-way mirror, where his heat sensor warned him there were seven bodies witnessing the questioning. "I'm rather protective of my other existence and those connected with it."

Brass cleared his throat and rose from his seat. "I'll clear the room and lock it."

Mark let his eyes follow the detective and, once the door had closed behind him, turned his attention to Grissom. "My youngest teammate is a big admirer of yours, Doctor Grissom."

Grissom's expression remained somewhat neutral, although there was a glimmer of self-pride at the comment. "An Entomologist in training, Commander?"

Mark nodded. "You could say that. He likes to torment the Swan with various specimens."

"Does he study them, or merely play?"

"I'd say he's more interested in studying Princess' horrified reactions than the actual critter. Although he can sprout of each and every one of their Latin names."

Grissom's lips pursed. "How old is the Swallow?"

"14."

His eyes widened in shock. "He's just a child."

Mark lowered his head and gave a proud smile. "Only in age, Doctor Grissom."

Grissom shook his head almost sadly, sliding his eyes to Brass as he re-entered the room. "Are we set, Jim?"

"I should have called Ticketmaster. There were at least six …"

"Seven," Mark corrected.

Brass cocked his head. "You can see through that?"

"I'm the Eagle," Mark said slowly, that being enough explanation.

Brass shrugged and pulled a pen from his pocket. He leaned down over a notepad and raised his eyes expectantly to the Eagle. "So, Mark. Tell me what I need to know to clear your name."

"This will remain confidential, I trust."

"Between the three of us only, Scouts honour."

Mark pulled out the chair he'd been leaning on and finally took a seat. He leaned back, crossed his legs at the thigh, and folded his arms across his chest. "My full name is Mark Cronus."

"As in Colonel Cronus?" Grissom asked in surprise.

Mark nodded. "I am his only son." He took a cautious look back at the viewing room and once satisfied it was empty, removed his helmet. With the removal of his helmet came a more relaxed demeanor and personality. "I'm 23 years old, and live with my girlfriend on an airstrip just outside of town."

Brass was frantically scribbling away as Grissom regarded a hero who was barely out of childhood sitting stoically across from him. He made mental notes about the physical appearance and posture of their only suspect, but remained fairly quiet.

It was Brass who did the questioning. "What were you doing today? Specifically at around 4pm this afternoon."

"At 4pm I was at my mother's gravesite."

"Are their any witnesses that can corroborate this?"

"It's a military cemetery, Jim. There is heavy security. I have to sign in and out for every visit."

"Which means there must be cameras on the premises?"

"Of course."

Brass looked up from the notepad and relaxed in the chair. He tapped the pen on the table and looked at Grissom. Mark's swift arrival really had caught them unprepared. He hoped that Grissom might actually have something to add to the conversation to keep them going long enough for some sort of evidence to make it to the room.

Grissom raised his brow. "Can you think of any reason why anyone would want to frame you for murder?"

Mark tilted his head. "Is that a trick question?"

Brass pursed his lips to quaff a chuckle. "Just answer the question."

"How about we discuss what you do have," Mark offered, somewhat amused to have caught two men with an impeccable reputation off-guard enough to make them stammer. "If I know what, exactly, I'm being accused off I may be able to help you … Waste time, so to speak, until we get something more substantial."

"All we really have is an eyewitness," Brass said with a shrug. "They're unreliable at best, especially when one thinks that the person they saw is … well … one of you."

Mark sighed. "A line up really won't do us much good, will it?"

"You'd be pretty easy to pick out, Mark."

There was a brief moment of silence, with the only sound being the squeal of metal across tile as Mark shifted his chair more comfortably underneath the table.

Grissom cleared his throat to continue the questioning. "Commander, have you or anyone from your civilian life been receiving threats of any kind?"

Mark's head was low, but he raised his eyes to Grissom so that they were wide and almost dangerous. "If anyone I love received even a whisper of a threat, I would immediately act upon it and neutralize said threat."

"Why did I just get a shudder?" Brass asked rhetorically as he rubbed his own arms as if trying to warm them.

"With that knowledge, would it be unreasonable to ask if they'd hide any threat from you?"

"I would hope they'd tell me."

"What about your girlfriend?"

Mark's lips pursed at the suggestion inside the question. Princess wouldn't hide anything from him … But she had been acting strangely over the past few weeks, especially in the last couple of days.

His eyes flashed and he immediately shot out of his chair. He crossed one forearm along his belly and attained a thoughtful, but worried, pose. "No …" He breathed long.

The action immediately caught Grissom's attention. He watched Mark begin an absent pacing and raised a brow. "What is it, Commander?"

Mark's head snapped to look through the man asking the question. Without answering, but staring at him as if addressing him, he raised his communicator to his lips.

"G1 to G3. Princess, do you copy?"

Silence.

"G-Force Commander to G3 Swan. Princess you need to answer me." He paused. "Swan, that's an order. Respond."

Grissom turned to give Brass a look and wasn't surprised to see him looking back at him with wide, questioning eyes. He looked back at Mark who was beginning to look a little panicked.

"Commander?"

Mark rubbed at either side his nose with his fingers and kept his eyes in Grissom's direction without actually looking at him. "She doesn't ignore my pages."

"I think we need those security photos," he muttered under his breath.

Mark's eyes finally flared and focused on the Entomologist. "I have to see that footage, Doctor."

Brass quickly rose to his feet. "I'll go and give Archie a kick in the ass to print off some stills."

Both Mark and Grissom watched Brass leave the room. There was a thick, heavy silence between the two of them that was only broken by Grissom clearing his throat.

"Can I ask you a question, Commander?"

"That's why I'm here," he answered bluntly.

He leaned his forearms on the table. "Does your Swan have a profile on Facebook?"

"We all do."

He took a deep breath. "Your civilian sides, I take it?"

"Yes."

"Has she ever made reference to having a crush on you?" He saw a dark look on the Eagle's face and raised his hand to ask a moment to explain himself. "I don't care if you and she are involved, and that isn't why I ask. We've found a possible link that may seem somewhat strange."

Mark's arms folded across his chest. "Let me guess. They all think I am …" he groaned painfully to say it. "Hot?"

"Something to that effect."

"Not to appear self-centred, Doctor Grissom, but there are more than a few comments to that effect across the Facebook network."

"Is that a yes or no, Commander?"

He rubbed at his brow. "Yes. She and I make a game of expressing our …" he cleared his throat, "attraction to each other."

"Do you know of her receiving emails from anyone outside of your group?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. I really try not to pry into what she does outside of the two of us."

"These emails may have been threatening. Something along the lines of her being a harlot or hussy, and how someone needs to teach her a lesson?"

He paced. "She never said anything to me."

"Maybe she didn't take it seriously, or she thought she could handle it herself." He took a breath. "She is the Swan, Commander. I doubt she'd think an Internet bully could take her out."

Mark's expression darkened. "She doesn't think that way, Doctor. Yes, she's tough and a more formidable opponent than anyone on my team, but she'd never allow herself to underestimate any kind of enemy. She's simply not that confident."

Grissom attempted not to appear as intimidated as he felt. "Well. Has she been acting strangely at all? Looking over her shoulder? Acting skittish? Being more, possessive and clingy than normal?"

His expression fell as he let his mind travel back to the past few days and the strange actions Princess had been doing. His hand flew to his mouth as he expelled a mortified breath of air. "Oh God." He raked his hands through his hair. "Where is Detective Brass with those pictures?"

"Right here," Brass panted as he burst through the door with a stack of photographs. He dropped them on the table and swiped his hand across them to roughly spread them out. "I think we can safely say that's not you," he murmured as he pointed to a picture of Princess and Chris arguing in the alley. "Your uniform is not so … uh …"

"Revealing," Grissom said with a frown. "Commander, do you recognize the woman?"

Mark's eyes widened and his face fell further into despair as Grissom pushed across a photograph of Princess on her knees, eyes as wide as her mouth as she appeared to be yelling for help. The attacker held a weapon at her thigh and had a self-appreciating snarl on his face.

"I recognize her, Dr. Grissom," he said dangerously after a breath. "The victim is my third in command … and the woman I love."

~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~

She half expected to wake with a roaring headache, dry mouth, scratchy eyes and a dry back throat, but as she groggily slapped her tongue to the top of her mouth and slowly opened her eyes, she was surprised to feel pretty much none of that. Her head, although fuzzy, was relatively pain free. Her eyes were well lubricated, as was her mouth, and her throat, although dry, wasn't at all scratchy. If she didn't know better, Princess would have assumed that she had only dreamed the events still so clear in her mind.

When she tried to rub her hand down her face and through her hair in a typical morning ritual, she found out otherwise – unless Mark was in to a new game she was unfamiliar with.

She rolled her head upward to look, as best she could, at her wrists. Both had been secured by handcuffs on either side of a wooden, sled-style, headboard of the bed. A flick and subtle kick of her legs revealed that her ankles had been secured in much the same manner.

"Oh good God," she whispered hoarsely to herself as she looked back up to her wrists to see if there was a way she could send a scramble to the team. "Dammit," she cursed as she tugged and twisted her wrists only to find that they'd been cuffed in such a manner that she couldn't reach her communicator to anything that might depress it enough to call the team.

She rolled her eyes upward and let out a long sigh.

_Where the Heck was she? Was she in Spectran hands?_

The question in her mind was partially answered by the noisy arrival of her captor. She narrowed her eyes and hissed low when she saw his face.

"Chris."

He smiled and slid down to a sit on the bed beside her. "Actually, my name isn't Chris, Sarah. That was just a clever alias so that the local enforcement teams wouldn't find us."

"Who are you?"

He tilted his head at her and ran his fingertip down her cheek, smiling when she jerked from his touch. "Tsk tsk," he clicked as he waved his index finger from side to side in her face. "That is very poor etiquette, my dear."

She clenched her fists and writhed a little against her ties. "And tying me up is?"

He dropped his head to smell her cheek. "Some things are necessary in order for me to properly correct your behaviour."

She coughed, but didn't exactly voice the response in her mind.

He grunted, rolling his eyes in irritation. "This is not a good start, Sarah. It is really time that you began to behave like your name suggests."

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Your name. It is the Hebrew word for Princess. Didn't you know that?"

She pursed her lips – of course she knew that, that is why the boys had called her "Princess" all her life. "I've heard something to that effect."

He nodded with a smile. "Yet you behave like a common tramp."

She sighed as she writhed a little against her ties in an attempt to gain a little comfort. "You obviously have a loose interpretation of the word."

"Loose being the topic of my concern," he purred as he slowly drew himself to a stand. He deliberately kept his back to her. "I understand why you girls think that behaving like you do is what the guys really want you to be. The little whores in the celebrity circus are very poor role models." He paused with a smile. "But that Swan; now there is a girl whom every little girl should look up to."

Princess had to frown and snort at the comment. Didn't this idiot realize that he held the Swan? …

… This wasn't a Spectran abduction. Zoltar was not going to be storming through the doorway at any moment gloating about how he was going to bring G-Force to its knees.

Oh, Jason was going to love this one.

The revelation actually allowed a small amount of colour return to her eyes. If this guy didn't know whom he had, then she could play this out and probably escape relatively unharmed.

With renewed strength, she offered a smile. "Is that why you dressed as the Eagle; because you have a thing for the Swan?"

He turned sideways to her and looked across his shoulder at her mid drift. He let out a short, soundless laugh at her question. "Even she dresses as a tramp, Sarah. I feel very little for her beyond respect for the image she projects."

"Make up your mind," she hissed. "You contradict yourself in the same sentence."

He clicked through his teeth in disappointment. "If she were to lose the mini-skirt and hooker boots, I may change my view."

She rolled her eyes as she felt his rise up to her chest. "I doubt she chose the uniform."

"I'm sure she could convince the Eagle to allow her the same dignity the rest of the team have."

She let out a low chuckle. "Not when he's one of the biggest perverts on the team …"

His eyes snapped up to hers. "Excuse me?"

She sucked in a breath at the intensity of his stare, and looked away from him. "Nothing, absolutely nothing."

"You were being smart."

"I'm not exactly in a comfortable position. I tend to try dry humour when I'm out of my element," she lied on a long breath. "Forgive me, _Commander_."

He leaned down to her and flicked hard at her earlobe. "You aren't a brat, Sarah, so stop it."

"Well you dress as the Eagle Leader of G-Force and then hold me hostage barking orders at me about how I should be … whatever you want me. How do you expect me to act?"

His lip curled. "Like a lady, damn you. That's why you're here."

"You'll need to give me a much better explanation than that."

"You," he droned to begin a pacing rant. "You and women like you. You all put yourselves out there. You show sexy images of yourselves on the internet, in pictures; use blogs to share your mind and thoughts with us like we mean something to you. Then when it comes down to one on one, you clam up. You all dangle that carrot in front of our noses promising us things you have no intention of following through with…"

She raised a brow in contempt at his words. "Oh you have got to be kidding me."

Her words caught whatever else he had to say in the back of his throat. He looked at her with wide eyes. "What?"

She pulled at her wrists, uncomfortable at the tingle and coldness she felt as a result of restricted blood flow. "Really, Chris – or whatever your name is. I never, once, kept it a secret that I was in a heavy long-term relationship. I never put racy images of myself online, and I certainly did not share any sexy thoughts."

"Ahh," he interrupted with a wave of his finger. "But you agreed to a date with me."

Her eyes narrowed. "Over twelve months ago, where I think I undoubtedly let you know I wasn't interested."

"You used me."

She coughed. "What?"

"Within a day of our "date" you hooked up with Mark."

She pursed her lips. "Who is going to kick your sorry ass into oblivion when he finds me."

He waved his hand dismissively. "He won't. I've covered my tracks well enough that he'll have no clue how to find you."

"Oh, he'll find me. Trust me. He'll find me and …"

"He'll be chasing the Eagle, Sarah. I've made sure the whole world will think it was he who did this."

She blinked and tugged again at her ties. "They're fools to believe the Eagle would do something like this."

He hummed. "Don't be so sure about that."

"Then the Eagle will find you and you'll have more than enough trouble."

He laughed and reached in to his pocket, producing a shiny badge. "I'll be one step ahead of them, my dear. I can manipulate evidence, create false reports, even fudge videographic evidence. Before too long, the White Shadow will be accused of all of my misgivings."

She gasped. "You're. My god. You're a police officer?"

"Criminalist."

She focused on the badge and let his words sink into her mind. It took her only a second to process the information and draw a painful conclusion. "You're the Facebook Killer?!"

He ran his fingers over her hair. "Is that what they're calling me now?" He smiled and sharply tugged at a small amount of her hair. He purred as he looked at the many strands in between his fingers. "Infamy is mine, I see. And like the Zodiac, I'll finish what I set out to do and fade off into the distance, to have mini-series and movies made about my crimes."

She whimpered slightly and began to tug just a little harder at the cuffs. "Do to me what you want, but when Mark finds you …"

"Oh, Markey Warkey," He sang in as an insulting tone as possible. "Let's just say that he'd better look out next time he walks into that little tin hangar of his."

She gasped and shook her head. "No. Please don't hurt him."

"Why not?"

"Because. Please. I'll do anything you want, be anyone you want. Just don't hurt him."

His brow flicked; he was enjoying this. "Then be a good little girl, Sarah, and your boyfriend will be safe."

"I promise," she sighed in desperation as she strained to look up at her wrists in hope of being able to send a warning through her communicator. "I promise. Anything you want."

"What I want," he answered her smoothly. "Is the perfect wife."


	3. Chapter 3

Mark's admission sent the room into silence. Neither man seemed to breathe as the information slowly swirled around them to settle onto the photographs.

The Swan; the most dangerous member of the most deadly half of the species; missing…

… Taken by a low-life serial killer.

It was a long few moments before there was any sound, and that was produced by the loud opening of the door as Chief Anderson, flanked by the G-Force Condor, burst through.

"Commander," he demanded. "Say nothing more." He ignored the stunned looks from Mark and Grissom, and pressed his hands to the desk in front of Brass. "I am Security Chief Anderson, Project leader of G-Force and the Eagle's defence counsel. Any further questions will be directed through myself …"

"Chief," Mark breathed gently, hoping to get a moment to explain the current situation before Anderson got too huffy.

Anderson turned his body, but kept his hands firmly on the table-top. "Commander, I will handle this from herein." He frowned when he saw the ashen face of the Eagle.

It was Jason who made the first move toward Mark. He threaded in between Anderson and Mark and coaxed the Eagle to the back wall with his hand against his chest. "Skipper, what've they got on you?"

Mark shook his head and kept his voice low, somewhat relieved to have friendlies present. "Jason. It's Princess."

"What about her?"

Mark's hand shakily rose to his forehead. "She's missing."

"What?" He twisted his neck to look across at Anderson. "Chief, you know about this?"

The look on Anderson's face answered the question promptly enough, however he voiced what was in his mind. "I know we've had trouble tracking her down since we got the call, but I assumed she was at the mall or something – it _is_ her day off …"

Mark actually rolled his eyes. "My team is under strict orders only to mute their communicators, never to switch them off, Chief. After Jason's endless bullshit with …"

"Hey hey," Jason interrupted with a wave of his hand. "Argue later, right now, we have a bigger problem."

Mark snorted and pointed a blue-gloved finger at his lieutenant commander. "Keep on Zark's ass, Jason. He needs to intensify his locators."

"I'll coordinate with Zark," Anderson suggested blandly. "The last thing I need is for Jason to upset him."

Mark's look fell into an agitated glare. "He's a fucking robot, Chief…"

"There is no need for Profanity, Commander."

Mark wasn't quite finished. "Change the chip, Chief. Take the humanity out of the damn thing and maybe we won't have to wait five hours every time we need information because he is too busy worrying about something or needing to take an oil break."

Anderson cleared his throat and turned his attention back to the table. He glared at the photographs spread across the surface. "You don't give _me_ the orders, Mark. Remember that." He narrowed his eyes at the photographs, effectively blocking out the unimpressed grunt from both his wards. The reality of the situation dawned and he slowly drew one of the images off the desk. "Do we know who this is?"

Brass finally felt the courage to open his mouth and speak. "We were speculating as to whether or not your Swan is the victim of the serial killer."

Anderson's brow rose fast, but his mouth wasn't as quick as Jason's.

"What the hell?" He turned sharply to his Commander. "Mark, man. Tell me she wasn't taken by that lunatic … This is Spectra, it has to be."

Mark shrugged and opened his mouth only to give an airless cough in response.

"C'mon Skipper, give the order to go after the Joker again – the rest of the team's here, we're ready to go."

Mark raised his eyes to the Chief, who had his glasses off his face and held down on the photograph as if using it like a magnifying glass. "Chief?"

"No, Commander," he said absently as he shifted the lens to another part of the picture. "I've heard nothing from Zoltar proclaiming us defeated because he has any of you."

Mark looked down at his watch. "She was taken about …"

"80 minutes," Brass confirmed.

"80 minutes ago." He huffed and looked up at the ceiling. "If Zoltar had her, we'd have heard him say "nya nya nya" about 79 minutes ago."

"Fuck," Jason breathed low.

"I know," Mark agreed quietly. "I never thought I'd say it, but I actually wish Zoltar had her."

"Yeah. At least we'd know what to do."

Grissom watched the duo closely as they spoke, seemingly sharing one mind. Rumours of their volatile relationship seemed quite false when he saw them here now, and it made him wonder just how well they connected on the field of battle - or what made them clash so violently that the rumours persisted. They would be quite the study, had he the time and energy to want to do a psychiatric analysis of them. He flicked his eyes to their leader, Chief Anderson, who was on his third photograph study.

"Do you find anything interesting, Mr. Anderson?"

Anderson raised his eyes from the photo and squinted to focus on the man sitting only a few feet away from him. "I will need to get these, and any other information pertaining to this case sent to my lab at the Federation."

"Nuh-uh," Brass scoffed in response. "Those photographs and anything associated with your Swan's disappearance _pertain_ to _our_ serial investigation. They're staying right here."

Anderson smiled facetiously and set his glasses back on his nose. "With all due respect, Officer …"

"Detective," Brass corrected.

"Detective. With all due respect, this is now a Federation investigation." He made sure his voice was as facetiously accommodating as possible. "I do thank you and your teams for gathering, documenting and partially analysing this evidence, but now our teams will be taking over."

Brass wasn't having any of it. "If your Swan …"

"Princess," Mark softly interjected, irritated by her being spoken of in such a detached manner. "Her name is Princess."

Both men cast their gazes at the young Commander, who seemed to be losing more and more of his command-demeanor with each passing second. Anderson flicked his eyes to Jason and slightly jutted his chin to Mark in a silent command. The Condor answered by stepping half in front of Mark with his back to the three men. He pressed his hand into Mark's shoulder and lightly coaxed him backward.

"Maybe you and me need to get a brew, Skipper. Let the scientists do their thing and find her."

Mark slid his eyes down to Jason's hand, then back up to the Condor's eyes. "You're kidding me, right?"

"No."

He tightly gripped Jason's hand and then roughly pulled it off his shoulder. His lip curled into a snarl as he stepped forward, deliberately knocking shoulders against Jason's as he took up a flanking position beside Anderson. "If you think for one moment, Chief, that I am backing down from this investigation, you're sorely mistaken. I, and …" he paused as his eyes asked confirmation from his second, when he got the nod, he continued. "I, and my team, will play an integral part in this investigation. No lockdowns in the rec room, or sent on wild and pointless goose chases."

Grissom pursed his lips, lopsided to the right; Brass cleared his throat and leaned his cheek in a tired manner on his fist, while Anderson thrust a hand in his pocket and turned to Mark. "Commander, I know you are upset..."

"I also insist that Dr. Grissom, Mr. Brass and his team handle the investigation."

Anderson's eyes steeled at being interrupted; his authority effectively questioned in front of persons not connected to the Federation. "Commander, this is a conversation best held at a different time,"

"I don't want to waste time, Chief," Mark flatly retorted, obviously not caring about blatant insubordination. "My third is missing, thereby making this my decision and my responsibility."

"I am your superior on this, Commander," Anderson argued.

Mark's tongue swept along his lip as he quaffed a smirk. "I am field Commander, Chief. We are essentially in the field – which means my order supercedes yours. I am exercising that superiority by insisting that Dr. Grissom and his team continue to handle this investigation."

"Mark …" He warned low.

Mark continued. "The teams here have been investigating this case for two years; it is high profile and highly publicized. If we blindly pull the case out from under them, people are going to wonder why. I really shouldn't have to list the reasons that _that_ would be very, _very_ bad for Princess, not to mention the team itself if Zoltar was to find out we were a man down."

Grissom nodded, but Brass answered. "Mr. Anderson, I have to agree with Mark. People are going to ask why your people are involved; as will our investigative teams."

Anderson grunted and cracked his neck to one side, obviously irritated, but complimentary at the same time. "There's a reason I put you in command of this unit, Mark, and once again you've proven why." His eyes shifted to Grissom. "Dr. Grissom, I will have a forensics team from the Federation join your team on this investigation. You will have access to all of our resources and, if necessary, extra funding to cover any expenses that may be incurred due to their presence. I will outline what information is given to your team, they will be on a strict need to know basis on this."

Grissom raised his hand to interrupt. "I have no problem with extra resources for this investigation, however I won't keep information from my team."

"You will have to respect the fact that one of my team is the victim here, Mr. Grissom. It is for her safety that her identity is closely guarded. I don't wish to question anyone on your staff, but there are leaks, and this is one leak we don't need."

Grissom's lips pursed in dissatisfaction, but he gave a short nod. "What am I allowed to tell them, Mr. Anderson?"

Mark was quick to answer for his project leader. "The Swan is not going to be named the victim. Absolutely no reference to her involvement with G-Force will be made."

Brass scribbled notes onto his pad. "But Princess is an odd kind of name, isn't it? Everyone automatically associates the name "Princess" with the Swan."

He took a deep breath and cast a glance at Anderson before focusing again on the two officers. "Her name is Sarah."

"Last name?"

Mark frowned and tilted his head at Anderson – not even _he_ knew her last name. "Chief?"

"Anderson," he answered flatly as he put a hand in his pocket and removed his glasses. "She is listed as my daughter for legal purposes."

Mark opened his mouth to airlessly breathe "Oh" then looked again at Brass. "She's 21 years old. Black shoulder-blade length hair, green eyes, five feet seven inches tall. Athletic build …" His voice began to choke as he realized what, exactly, he was doing. Describing his lover in such a detached manner, like she was dead and they were looking for a body, was mortifying. He took a deep sniff through his nose, cleared his throat, and continued. "She was wearing the civilian G-Force uniform of white and pink striped jeans, brown slip on shoes, a blue shirt with red sleeves and a pink vinyl number three on the front."

"I think we can get most of that from the images, Commander," Brass finished softly.

Mark sniffed and closed his eyes as he nodded his head. "In her off-duty hours she is a dancer and waitress at Jill's diner …"

"Where she was abducted," Grissom finished as his hand wiped across his mouth. "Is she a friend of the owner?"

Mark nodded. "Best friends, actually. They were supposed to meet up for shopping this after …" He paused, his eyes flashing open in discovery. "The email!"

Grissom's eyes widened expectantly. "What email, Commander?"

Mark spun to Jason. "She got an email from Jill this morning, right?"

Jason gave a firm nod, dropping his chin close to his folded arms. "Yeah. She told me she and Jill were going shopping for something special and girly for you for tonight." He snorted a smirk. "Made me sick thinking about it."

The temptation was to smirk and call Jason "jealous", but there were more serious issues at foot. He looked back at Grissom. "When I spoke to Jill on the phone at the Cemetery, she told me she didn't send her any emails."

Grissom's brow flicked. "Does Jill have a hackable account, such as Hotmail or Yahoo?"

Mark shook his head. "No. She's on the Federation network; all outside friends of the team are for security reasons." He tapped at his lip with his finger. "Chief …"

"I'll have Zark do a scan of the servers, see if there've been any breeches." Anderson responded quickly.

Brass tapped his pen on the table in thought. He raised his eyes to Mark and leaned back in his chair. "You know I'll need to send a team to your home to collect your computer and do a sweep of the premises."

He nodded and drew in a long breath. "Keyop will be responsible for the actual investigation, however. Most of the files on that system are highly confidential." He heard Anderson growl behind him and swatted his hand in the air. "Yes, Chief. All Report files are encrypted, but I am sure Dr. Grissom's staff are more than capable of breaking any encryption."

"Yes," Brass purred. "Archie is very good."

Jason let his eyes rise to the window of the viewing area as he saw the mirror turn to glass so that the room adjacent was visible. He listened only with his ears, his attention caught by the faces of the Owl and the Swallow, who were currently setting up to perform the human blow-fish act against the glass – obviously the two were none-the-wiser about the current events.

He let out a short laugh at the two mouths on the glass, effectively interrupting the serious conversation ahead of him.

Mark was the one who growled his displeasure. "Jason, what is it about all this you find so funny?"

He licked at his lip and jutted his chin toward the window, where Keyop was readying to perform the same trick again. "The kid. Any volunteers for explaining all this to him?"

Mark's eyes rose as he inhaled a long and horrified breath. "Damn. I forgot about him." He looked to the side at Anderson and slowly closed his eyes. "As team commander, it's my duty to do it."

He removed his helmet from the table and tilted his head back to pull it over his hair. He blew uncomfortably at the persistent lock from his bangs that fell on his forehead and bit on his lips in deep contemplation of how to most gently break it to the kid.

"The sooner we do this, the sooner we find her," he muttered as if to end the discussion and begin the investigation.

"I need her back, Gentlemen. I trust you'll do everything to make sure she comes home."

The Eagle's departure from the interrogation room left it in relative silence. Grissom could see the young man was torn over the fast revealing facts of the case, and in a way he could empathize. It wasn't so long ago that he had been faced with much the same scenario:

Another serial killer - a killer who made miniature models of the scene. A killer, who knew the ways to beat the best criminalists in the country. A killer, who in the name of revenge, took his beloved and left her to die underneath a destroyed vehicle in the Nevada desert.

He still couldn't quite remember how they brought Sara back to them. Most of that investigation was but a haze in his mind. He could vaguely recall finding the miniature of Sara on his desk. He could vividly recall trying over, and over, to phone her on her cell. He could easy envision the interrogation, where he'd finally lost what control he had and practically throttled the psychotic young woman as he demanded to know where Sara was.

But anything else?

He'd been reminded plenty of times since about his actions, his words, and the process, but honestly couldn't recall anything beyond the need for her to come back alive, and forgoing all but her when he finally found her .

…No doubt this one would end quite similarly for the Eagle.

He was quiet as he looked into the stern face of the Condor, who was staring into the viewing room window at the Eagle readying to break the news to the remaining team members. He could tell by a quick twitch in the eye that the Condor knew he was being watched, but the young man made no other outward move toward Grissom, nor did he comment on the fact he was being analyzed. It was obvious, however, that the Condor had him pinpointed in his peripheral vision and was keeping watch on him.

_Typical of a Condor_, he supposed. _Suspicious and wary._

Jason moved suddenly, which gave the older man a jolt. Within a breath, the Condor was out of the door and in the adjacent room beside his Commander.

Grissom turned in time with Brass to see what was the urgency. They were both surprised to see the Eagle struggling to restrain not the Swallow, but the Owl. The fury in the big man's eyes, and the exertion of the Eagle trying to calm him sent the two men shuffling back toward the table.

Brass actually swore at the melee between Owl and Eagle. The swear not necessarily directed at the scuffle, but more at the Condor, who stood hunched at the doorway just watching.

"Damn it, Condor," he muttered. "Help out your Commander."

Anderson, who was calmly looking through the photographs again, merely snorted. "Wait," he said distractedly. "Just wait."

Brass raised a brow at Anderson, who wasn't even looking at the window. "Are you going to step in?"

Anderson shook his head without raising his eyes. "No."

Brass grunted and rose from his seat. "I'm calling in back up."

He gaped when he saw a sudden flash of brown and blue streak across the window. The streak ended with a rattle as the Condor firmly shoved the Owl up against the wall, his forearm across his throat and his gun raised in warning.

"Oh, shit. He's got a gun!"

"He won't use it," Anderson suggested; his voice still calm. "Mark will end it long before it gets to that point."

Brass raised a brow, wary that half of the precinct was probably baring witness to the events. "Is this a common occurrence, Mr. Anderson?"

Anderson raised his eyes, finally, as Mark silently stepped in between the Owl and Condor and firmly separated them with one hand dead center of each chest. "No. But I know my team well. Of course if something of this nature does happen, it's usually between Mark and Jason with Princess being the one to step in and end it."

Brass coughed a shocked breath. "And they listen to her?"

Anderson smiled and lowered his head as he took a step backward. "She's not exactly a woman you argue with, Detective."

They all looked back at the window to see the foursome acting as though there had been no disagreement. All leaned against the four walls of the room, their heads lowered, arms folded, silently discussing the known facts of the case.

Anderson turned to half on to the door and held up two of the several photographs of Princess. "I will arrange for our forensics and scientific teams to coordinate with your teams on this, Dr. Grissom. Mark and Princess' computers will be brought to the station within the next thirty minutes." He nodded toward the window. "Give them a few minutes to digest what they have, and I will guarantee you that you'll have four of the most brilliant minds in the galaxy working alongside you."

"I don't doubt it," Grissom muttered softly.

Anderson waved a hand over his shoulder as he walked out of the room and closed the door behind him, leaving Brass and Grissom alone in the interrogation room.

Brass was the first to speak, clearing the air with a slight huff of air. "Gil. What was that?"

"The more appropriate question is what have we gotten ourselves in to?" He tapped his pen on the table. "Something tells me this investigation is only going to get more and more insane."

"To hear you say that," he muttered in response, "it scares me."

"Me too."

Part of the two men left in the room wanted to be able to hear what was being said between the G-Force members. All four were deep in concentration and all taking their turns to speak, with the Eagle most definitely leading the discussion. To Grissom and Brass, the discussion looked a lot like the military heads formulating their mission parameters for a deadly assault.

Both men had their lips pursed in indecision, but Brass was the first to speak.

"So what do you think?"

"About what?"

Brass slid his eyes to his friend. "About this whole thing?"

Grissom gave the slightest hint of a shrug. "I'm looking forward to the extra resources. I've been losing sleep over this case for months."

Brass smirked. "And here I was thinking it was the younger woman."

Grissom rewarded him with a tired look. He finally looked back into the viewing area and let out a long sigh. "It's Sara all over again."

"With another Sarah," Brass finished dryly. He blinked his eyes slowly and looked at Grissom. "If I ever have another child, I will not call her Sarah – that name seems to be a magnet for people wanting to kill you."

"Don't fall in love with one, either, Jim."

"I've already made that mental note."

Grissom shuffled the papers he had and gathered them into a large manila folder. "What explanation do we use for the presence of the winged party?"

Brass shrugged. "Clearing the Eagle's name? I dunno."

"I suppose we'll make up the play as we go along."

Brass smirked. "You've read and memorized enough Shakespeare to become your own audio library, Gil. I'm sure you'll have no problems."

Grissom tilted his head in a smirk. "It's the actors I'm worried about."

Brass pulled out his cell phone and began to thumb through the contacts lists. "Time to call all stage hands to the set."

"Tell them they're late. The director called "action" almost two hours ago."

~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~

_The Las Vegas evening air is about as cold as the day was hot_, Princess mused to herself as she felt her body shiver inside a short gust of wind from the window.

Part of her was thankful that it was spring, and not winter that she'd been abducted. Lying cuffed to a bed, with no cover except a white pair of cotton panties that matched her bra, would have been far less pleasant had that window been open on a winter's eve.

Chris, or whoever he was – she'd just call him Chris to save the energy – had left her alone in the room to answer the ringing phone out in the front. So now she had a few moments to contemplate her escape.

She gave a tug at her wrists in an attempt to determine what kind of cuffs she had been shackled with. Of course, her captor being in law enforcement suggested that they were the type you couldn't playfully expect to slap on your lover's wrists and have him/her easily pull out of them when the going got good. A high pitched clank against the aluminium bed frame confirmed they were the real McCoy, and not something she could hope to either wriggle out of, or break her wrists trying to snap.

Curses.

She was somewhat thankful she'd muted her communicator after talking to Mark earlier in the day. She knew he was trying to reach her; she could feel the gentle electrical notification buzz on her inner wrist; but she had no way of responding.

Curses.

She rolled her head back to get a closer look at her ties. She rolled her wrist inside it, first to investigate the possibility that she might squeeze her way out, and second to see if it would be possible to manoeuvre it to somehow press against her communicator link to send out a scramble to her team.

No doubt by now they knew something was wrong.

Well, obviously. This idiot made sure to publicize the image of the Eagle during the attack, so someone had to have reported it by now. Mark was probably down at the precinct declaring his innocence; and, if the local law enforcement teams were as swift as was their reputation, they'd have confiscated and begun to analyse the tapes at Jill's.

So Mark would probably know.

She sighed deeply. She promised him she wouldn't be late tonight … Her first broken promise to him.

Curses.

She attempted to lift her head to move her mouth close enough to her communicator to attempt to send a voice alarm to the team. The action forced her to pull at the restraints against wrists already black and bruised. She had to let out a short cry of pain, it expelled from her mouth as a haunted call of her lover's name.

Her captor immediately burst into the room.

Wearing only a pair of tighty-whitey underwear that were greying with constant washing, he burst into the room and onto the bed; his knees striking the mattress between her spread and tied legs. "Shut up!" he yelled as the back of his hand met with her cheek.

The sudden strike caused her to yell out again and vainly attempt to bring her hand to cover the sting on her cheek.

He reacted again against the sound of the tugging metal on metal grind, and of her yelping and struck her again, this time ending the strike with his hands on her throat. "I. Said. Quiet!"

Her face reddened with his pressure against her carotid artery – she knew she'd have very little time before she passed out; seconds?

"Please," she choked as her vision whitened. I'm sorry."

His lip curled and he grunted giving her another tight squeeze on the throat before releasing her. "You _won't_ betray me, Sarah."

She took a deep breath, whining as she felt the immediate and full rush of blood back into her head. She gasped deeply and pulled her back into the pillow as far away as she could. "Why are you doing this to me?"

He lowered his chest onto hers and set his hands either side of her face. He tsked in disappointment at her as he let his thumbs trace her cheeks. "Do I really need to explain it all to you again, Sarah?"

At any other time in her short life, Princess may have used this moment to gleefully envision what Mark was going to do to this man when he found him – What pain and suffering the Eagle would force upon the cretin who dared attack the one he loved – but right now, all she could think of was how she wasn't ready to die right now.

Under the confinement of Spectran forces, Princess was brave and unaffected. She knew at any moment the team would come and they'd all either die together, or leave together – as they had all arrived, so they would leave.

Here she was alone. Mark wasn't waiting in the Phoenix monitoring her via the chip in her helmet, or the vital scans on Keyop's monitors. He wasn't in the next room, preparing to terrify the enemy with his low, haunting whistle before swooping in to rescue his girl and help her defeat an army. He wasn't even in an unconscious heap on the floor after being beaten by Zoltar.

No. He wasn't here. He didn't even know where she was, or if she was even in danger.

She was completely, and utterly alone.

The through sent a miserable shudder through her body. She blinked back tears and lightly shook her head to answer the question.

"No. Please, just don't hurt me any more."

He hummed and smiled as he lowered his face to kiss her on the very corner of her mouth. "If you're a good girl, I won't have to."

She inhaled her sob and nodded; her eyes clenched shut in self-disgust. "I'll be good."

He chuckled and stroked her hair. "Promise?"

She nodded.

"Good girl," he said in possibly the most condescending manner Princess had ever heard. "Now. I've been called in to work, so I'll have to plan our special evening on a later date." He slid backward off the bed and reached to his side to pull a pair of jeans off the back of a chair. "Looks like we have some excitement down at the precinct tonight."

Princess could do little more than blink and nod at him.

He didn't mind. It was just as fun to taunt her when she didn't fight back. "Looks like your boyfriend in white wings has shown up with his team at the lab."

Princess held her breath. Did he know, now, who he held hostage?"

He didn't notice her sudden colour change from white to grey, and continued to natter on. "Yes. My plan worked to perfection. Brass and Dr. Grissom are questioning the Eagle as we speak. Maybe I'll tell him that my wife-to-be is a fan and he must sign an autograph for her." He looked at her as he buttoned up a grey shirt. "What do you think, Sarah? Would that make you happy?"

She couldn't help but feel somewhat relieved that he had yet to figure out that he held the Swan in his clutches. That small fact might keep her alive a little longer. There was no telling what her fate would be if he realized who she really was.

"Will you be home late?" she questioned softly, wondering how much time she may have to plan an escape.

He smiled as he did up his belt and grabbed his cell phone off the dresser. "I'll be home when I'm home." His eyes narrowed and looked accusingly at her. "I also have this place well monitored, Sarah, so I wouldn't go thinking that you can make an escape. I shouldn't have to remind you what will happen to your boyfriend should you make even a sliver of an attempt to escape."

She sucked in a mouthful of breath and nodded frantically. "May I at least have a blanket to keep me warm and give me a little dignity?"

He tilted his head in a frighteningly loving fashion and pulled a duvet from the foot of the bed up and over her chest. "Of course, darling." He kissed her on the forehead, and then the nose. "Sleep well."

She stiffened at his words and actions, and remained that was as she watched him leave the room. Her breath didn't leave her lungs until she heard the car outside start and drive away.

"Oh, God," she breathed as a tear escaped her lashes and rolled down her cheek toward her ear. "Mark, you have to help me. Please find me."

~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~

Grissom had to groan somewhat tiredly as he stepped out of the interrogation room and was met by five extremely curious night-shift criminalists. All were silent, vocally, but all were loudly shouting their questions at him through their eyes, their expressions, and their body language.

He didn't want to deal with all this just now. He had yet to discuss with Chief Anderson exactly what information was going to be shared and he certainly did not want to be rushing into a confused assignment meeting unprepared. His team were investigators, for Christ's sake, they would immediately know something wasn't quite kosher it he stammered together a bunch of useless and unpractised lines of bullshit.

With his pen held between his index and middle finger, he rubbed at his brows and adopted an absolute boyish wide-eyed look.

The eyes behind the hand position drew an immediate husky voice of concern from the brunette of the CSI team. "Migraine, Grissom?"

At Sara's voice, his expression relaxed behind his hand.

A migraine might be a great excuse to run and hide within the many jars of bugs and unmentionable specimens in his office and let someone else deal with the explanations.

No. No.

He took in a deep breath and put on his most typical Grissom face. "I'm okay, Sara. It's just been an … eventful day." Before leading them into the assignment room, he took a quick look at each of his team, searching to see if any of them would be unable to function due to celebrity-shock or intimidation. They seemed okay, so he pointed toward the room.

"I'll explain it all to you as best I can."

There was barely a murmur as each investigator took their seats and looked to their supervisor for answers. He winced somewhat at the shifting of chairs on polished tile floor, and groaned as he took a seat himself.

"Well, team," he said slowly as he attempted to quickly formulate something in his mind.

Catherine noticed the hesitation in Grissom and decided that he might operate somewhat more like himself if she probed him with questions.

"Were you able to clear the Eagle from the photographs?"

Grissom blinked fast a couple of times to metaphorically shake himself and nodded. "To see him, and then the security images, there's no doubting that young man's innocence."

She smiled and leaned back in her chair, flicking at her hair as she looked down her shoulder into the hallway, where she could see the quintet from the Federation. "But they're still here."

Grissom pursed his lips. "The Federation have chosen to avail themselves for the remainder of this investigation."

"The serial?" Nick's brow rose fast. "Any particular reason, Griss?"

"The extra resources are sorely needed right now, Nick. I say we focus on …"

Warrick snorted to interrupt. "You're skirting the question." He leaned his forearms on the table and narrowed his eyes questioningly at his supervisor. "G-Force aren't exactly the investigative types, Grissom. Those guys are military."

"Who seem to be missing a member," Sara observed quietly before taking her eyes off the team and looking back at her colleagues. "Is there a more personal reason we have the male members of G-Force wanting to join an investigation?"

Grissom was silent for a very long one-second with his eyes wide on his lover. He blinked, again opening to a wide stare. "The Swan is unavailable at this moment," he managed quietly. "I imagine she will be along at some point when they can communicate the information to her."

Catherine snorted. "That's a little too technically delivered, even for you." She leaned forward on her forearms and tilted her shoulder in a coy manner. "What's going on, Gil?"

Anderson's voice boomed from the doorway to answer the question.

"As you all well know, this particular case has become linked with my team Commander. This latest connection, although obviously false, has forced the Federation to take notice, and take steps to joining, if not, controlling the investigation." He stepped into the room far enough to let the G-Force members file in to stand in an almost perfect formation one-step behind him.

Nick was the one to raise his hand in protest. "Oh hang on a minute." His eyes fell to Grissom. "You can't seriously tell me that we're handing this case off to them. That's not fair!"

Sara agreed. "Griss, we've been on this one for two-years. We've worked our tails off analysing and reanalysing evidence. You can't …"

"I'm not," Grissom interrupted in a soft voice. "We will be working alongside the Federation forensics department."

Anderson nodded. "My Commander was quite adamant that your department continue to run with and lead this investigation, with the Federation offering background support. I assure you that you will all remain as involved in this investigation as you have always been, if not, moreso."

"Howso?" Catherine asked with a girlish pout that would have rivalled that of the missing woman as she let her eyes scan over the white uniform of the G-Force Commander.

He responded to her look by pulling his wings closed in front of his chest and turned his attention to Grissom. "How much information have you given your team, Mr. Grissom, of the latest development?"

Grissom let out a breath and leaned back in his chair. He swept his hand in the air in front of vacant seats in a gesture of camaraderie. "We had barely begun to discuss things, Commander. Please you and your team take a seat and we will begin briefing."

Mark nodded to his team to take seats. He wasn't surprised to hear his second grunt beside him.

"I'll stand."

"No you won't, Jason. You'll take a seat and join in the conversation." He watched as Jason's lip twitched and let out a breath. "Please."

Jason blinked slowly and did as asked, taking a seat beside Catherine, who immediately offered him her hand and a smile.

"Hi. I'm Catherine."

Jason, irritated because of current events, and de-toxing after celebrating his latest track victory, let his grey-blue eyes slide to hers and let the side of his mouth flick, once, in a quasi-smile. "Jason," he said matter of factly as he leaned back in the chair and folded his arms across his chest. "Can we make this quick?"

Mark's eyes narrowed as he took a seat across the table from his second. "Why, Jason? Are you in a hurry?"

"Yeah, to find this asshole and introduce him to a little Condor justice."

"Not if I get him first," Mark mumbled in a voice only loud enough for his three team members to decipher.

"Gentlemen," Anderson huffed, maintaining his stand at the head of the table beside where Grissom was seated. "We can discuss appropriate and legal forms of punishment at a later date. For now, can we please discuss what is known and what course of action we plan to take with this investigation?"

The CSI team raised brows and looked amongst each other, while the G-Force teams all remained seated with their heads down.

Sara cleared her throat, uneasy with the obvious tension from the birds seated around her. "So. Uh. I guess I'll ask the burning question in everyone's mind. Who is the victim, and why is she so special to have the G-Force team becoming involved in the case?"

Nick nodded. "Yeah. I'm with Sara. What's so special about her? Is it the Swan?"

His question was met with four angry glares, but only one verbalized answer, this one from Anderson. "What makes her so special, Mr. Stokes, is that her abduction was supposedly by my team Commander. Your killer obviously wants G-Force, or more specifically the Eagle, to hurt. We all want to know why."

Nick shrugged and looked to Grissom. "But I think we've got proof it wasn't the Eagle …"

"Mark," the Eagle gently interrupted. "My name is Mark."

Nick's eyes met with Mark's and he winked to accept the introduction. "Mark. I think we've proven it wasn't you, and we can give that information to the press easy enough, so why the sudden interest?"

Mark sighed. "Have you ever been accused of murder, Mr. Stokes?"

Nick clicked in air through his mouth and nodded. "Actually, yeah. And my name is Nick." He jutted his chin to Catherine. "Took Cat a good 48 to find evidence to prove I was innocent."

"So you were framed?"

Nick nodded. "Yeah."

"And how'd it make you feel?"

"I wanted in on the investigation,"

Mark smiled shortly. "Touché."

"Ahh," he breathed as he waved a finger in the air. "But I wasn't allowed on the case for that reason."

Mark's eyes darkened as his lips stretched into a dangerous smile. "I will challenge anyone to remove me from this investigation, Nick."

Sara watched with a tilted head from around Tiny's frame. She maintained her position, but let her eyes slide to Anderson. "What about the Swan? I can't help but note she's absent from this meeting. Is she the victim here?"

The four birds immediately hushed and flicked their eyes at Anderson. He cleared his throat and thrust his hand into his pant pocket. "The Swan will be arriving in time. She is on assignment outside the city at the moment and is unable to join us right now."

"Do we know anything about our victim?"

Anderson lowered his head, took a breath, and raised it again to address the full table, rather than just Sara. "Our victim's name is Sarah Anderson, she is an employee at the Federation, within our explosives division. She is 21 years old, attractive, athletic build …"

"Which we can see from the photos," Greg purred. "Meow, what a looker. She got a boyfriend?"

"Want to focus?" Mark snapped with a flash of blue eyes. "She's a victim, remember, not the Galaxy girl for the month."

Greg gave a shocked blink. "I guess that's a yes, then," he muttered as he flicked the photograph back onto the table.

Mark let out a short cough. "I hardly see how that's relevant."

"Completely, Mark." Greg replied in a matter-of-fact tone in his own defence. "He's the first guy we need to question on this."

"What?"

Warrick nodded. "He's right. The boyfriend/spouse/partner is always on the top of the suspect list. Statistics are always in favour of someone close to them being the killer. " He looked casually to Anderson. "Any chance we'll be able to speak to anyone from her circle of friends, starting with her boyfriend?"

Sara nodded. "For the killer's MO to switch up to actually being seen wearing a costume, it makes sense that it's more likely a copy-cat, crime of passion thing."

Catherine leaned in, effectively closing out the G-Force team to let the investigative team work though theories. "We need to check if she's had trouble with a boyfriend, you know, a fight, fooling around …"

"Yeah," Warrick joined in with an enthusiastic smirk. "A man can get pretty wild when he thinks his wife or girlfriend is bumping uglies with another man. Been there, done that …"

"Got the T-Shirt," Catherine finished with a smile. "A girl can go pretty insane too."

"Worse," Sara added thoughtfully. "If she is involved with a woman…"

"Nah," Warrick hummed as he pointed to the picture. "That is definitely a guy."

"A pissed off boyfriend," Sara breathed. "I hate dealing with pissed off …"

"That's enough!" Mark finally yelled, punching hard at the desk. He pressed his hands into the table and deliberately, slowly drew himself to a stand. "How about we quit speculating about her sex-life and start doing some actual investigation."

"Commander," Anderson warned low, aware that there were several sets of stunned, wide eyes on him.

"Speculating," Warrick ventured warily, "is how we plan which course of analysis we take."

"It's sick," he breathed angrily. "I don't see how it helps in any way, shape, or form who she is sleeping with."

"Commander," Grissom said smoothly, his voice calm and even. "Perhaps you might be better off coordinating with your forensics division for the time being. I'll make sure my team is fully briefed on the information we have on the current victim, and will have …"

"I'm not going anywhere," he hissed low.

"I really do think …"

Mark's lip curled and his mouth opened as if to spit a carefully phrased insult of sorts; so Anderson cut him off. "Commander." His voice was smooth, emotionless, and authoritative. "I agree with Dr. Grissom. You should step outside for a moment and prepare for the arrival of our teams. Perhaps you can continue trying to contact the Swan."

Mark's eyes flashed dangerously toward Anderson. "Chief …"

"Skipper," Jason huffed in tired frustration as he drew himself to a stand. "Let's get out of here and leave the brains to do their work. This science shit bores the heck out of me; anyway, I could do with a break from sterility."

Mark cracked his head, wanting to argue, but knowing full well he had to comply. He took a deep breath and nodded. "Fine."

Grissom calmly watched the Eagle and Condor leave the room and slid his eyes to Anderson. "For the record, Mr. Anderson, and on the behalf of my team, I really want to express my concern about your team's involvement in this case."

Anderson pursed his lips as if blowing a kiss. "It's noted, Dr. Grissom, but in order for this investigation to remain in the hands of your team, you must expect their involvement."

"This is too personal."

"They've seen worse, experienced worse."

Grissom huffed. "I doubt it."

Anderson tilted his head, irritated by the challenge. "This is not a pissing contest, Dr. Grissom. My team are more than capable of shutting off their emotions when the need arises. My Commander has been accused of abducting and murdering an employee of the Federation; this will upset him as I am sure it would any of your team." He took the seat that Jason had vacated earlier and opened a large manila folder of papers in front of him. "I've spoken with your Sheriff and have informed him that as of this moment, your team are solely assigned to this case until otherwise notified. There will be no further distractions or assignments, and current cases will be taken by swing shift criminalists."

Sara frowned. "Can I argue with that decision? I have three rape cases on the books and would really like …"

"And I have a shooting and double homicide," Catherine whined.

Anderson raised a brow. "Feel free to remove yourselves from this case entirely if you wish."

Sara inhaled strong. "Tempting, if we didn't have a live victim we might actually be able to save."

"If she's still alive."

Eight sets of eyes settled on Anderson. One set was young, red, and horrified. After an incoherent set of breeps and broops, the youngest G-Forcer wiped at his eyes with the back of a gloved fist. "She's alive."

Sara watched the young man with a creased brow. Without thinking, she set her hand gently on his shoulder. "Don't worry Swallow. I promise you we'll find her alive and well."

"Sara," Grissom warned softly, all too aware she was ready to fall into her empathetic hole.

She flashed him her own warning look and slouched back in her chair. "I won't sleep until we get this guy."

He shook his head and slowly stood. His mind didn't war at all as he closed the door to the briefing room and shut the blinds. "Time for the truth, team."

Anderson growled from his place at the table. "What are you doing, Dr. Grissom?"

"You have your stipulations, I have mine," Grissom answered as he took his seat and leaned back arrogantly in his chair. "I will not lie or hide information from my team. They need to know everything in order to properly perform their jobs." He blinked his eyes slowly. "My team aren't blind to the facts, Mr. Anderson. If they haven't already figured it out, they will soon enough.

Nick leaned in to Warrick. "Bets on we're looking for Swannie."

"Nick," Grissom growled. "This isn't the time."

Anderson rolled his eyes upward and taped his fingers on the file. He swallowed hard as he slowly lowered his head and nodded. "I half expected this." He used his fingertip to push a pink-coloured envelope into the center of the table. "This is the file on our victim. Her vital statistics, DNA profile, Orthodontic report, anything that can be used for identification are inside … Anything I, and the Federation, deem appropriate to the case are inside." He slapped his hand down hard on top of it as he saw four of the eight persons reach for it. "This information does not leave this room. It is highly and critically confidential. I cannot stress how important it is that word of her identity isn't leaked."

Catherine raised a brow and pouted her lips in a smile. "Mr. Anderson. Confidentiality is our forte. I promise you that noone outside this room on our side of the fence will find out that our victim is your Swan."

~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~

It wasn't as if the Condor really had to forcibly drag his commander into the corridor; Mark was perfectly willing to leave the room; But Jason still felt the need to painfully grip the shoulder of his wing and pull him a lot faster than he was actually able to walk.

Ordinarily Mark would assert his rank and correct Jason when he used this kind of methodry to make him do as he damn well pleased, but right now he simply couldn't draw out the energy to assert anything more than obedience. Distraction in its finest form, Princess' disappearance really had taken his mind off the task.

Yeah, Anderson was right after all – not that he would admit it any time soon.

Jason was hardly gentle when he flicked his wrist to release Mark against the wall beside a drinking fountain close to the entrance to the reception area.

"Skipper, you need to hold it together, man."

Mark slouched lazily against the wall and folded his arms against his chest. He lowered his head and sniffed hard enough to lift his top lip into a chaste curl. "I'm trying."

Jason leaned on his elbow against the wall and rested his helmeted head onto his fist. "Easier in theory than in practice, eh?"

Mark nodded and kept his gaze solidly to the wall across from them, rather than look at Jason. "I'm worried about her."

"We all are."

"If she's in the hands of a serial killer …" he sighed long. "God, I don't know what I'd do."

Jason whipped a feather from his wing and analysed the tip a moment before setting it between his teeth. "I think we can pretty much confirm she's with that creep."

Mark closed his eyes and rolled his head back on the wall, pushing his antenna up hard against the white fibreglass enough for it to make a sharp cracking noise. He ignored it. "No chance at all of you humouring me, is there?"

"Nope."

"Shit."

Jason's brow flicked. "Shit as in you _want_ me to humour you, or just general _shit_?"

Mark's lips actually turned to a small smile. "A little from column A, a little from column B?"

"Ahh, an all reaching shit…"

"Yeah. Something like that."

They stood in silence, both somewhat focusing their aural attentions on the murmurs from the assignment room where the people they were trusting with Princess' life were discussing what they knew. Neither actually commented to the other if they could actually decipher the murmurs into words, but each knew what the other was doing.

Jason finally broke a five-minute silence with a cough. His eyes caught Mark's startled jump and he let out a long breath.

"So, Mark. Do you actually know anything about this serial killer?"

Mark rolled his head to the side to finally look at his second. "As in what, exactly?"

"Well being that you live with the super-sleuth herself, and we all know she's ass deep in studying the case, have you managed to actually digest anything she's talked to you about."

Mark smiled. "Honestly, and not that I want to be crass, but when I'm with Princess, I'm rarely thinking of anything … but … you know."

Jason's eyes slid slyly toward Mark. "It's always the quiet ones …"

"No. Seriously, Jase. When Princess and I are together, we don't talk shop."

"Somehow I find that really hard to believe."

Mark shrugged. "I'm serious. She knows that when I escape the Federation, I don't want to talk about it." He tapped his own chest with his finger without breaking his arms from their folded position. "When I'm Mark, I'm Mark. I don't want to bring the Eagle home with me." He sighed. "I don't even watch the news any more, Man. Too much pain and suffering and death and murder."

"Yeah," he agreed with a huff. "Makes you wonder why we bother, eh?"

Mark shook his head. "Her, Jase. I do this for her."

Jason seemed somewhat surprised by the admission. "That's the only reason?"

"What other reason is there?" He shrugged. "My parents are dead. I have no other family besides you guys. I don't exactly care about a billion people I don't even know. Princess, well, you know. She makes it worth it."

"Yeah. I hear that."

"I was going to propose tonight …"

Jason closed his eyes and nodded with a smile. "Figured you were going to do it sooner than later."

"I should have done it sooner, Jase. Now I might not get the chance."

Jason let his eyes shift to the door as a new crew of investigators walked through the front. "I really think there are more important things right now than whether or not you give her a ring, Skip."

"I guess."

There was an impressed holler from the door that made both birds adjust their stares to the noise.

"Holy … Wow. Now that's cosplay in it's finest."

Mark's brow rose in an identical manner to Jason's, and he stared at a quickly approaching Asian male. He lowered his voice an octave and gruffly whispered his fear of the upcoming introduction. "You have about 10 seconds to tell me what cosplay means, or I fear this is going to hurt."

"We've got stocks in Advil, right?"

"Damn."

Archie, the Las Vegas Crime Lab's resident computing/audio/visual genius, didn't waste time on formalities before he took a handful of the edge of Mark's wing and tugged at the fabric.

"That is one Hell of a costume, man. Where'd you get it done?"

Jason leaned around Mark and did what his Commander wouldn't: remove the offending hand from Federation property. "Federation issue. Careful, you touch it and it'll rip your hand off."

Archie smirked and let go a small chuckle. "Well. You're in character. Although I don't think the Condor is really that …" he paused as he saw the approach of another two colleagues. "Yo. Hodges, Chris. Check these costumes out. Why didn't either of you tell me there was a convention on?"

David Hodges slowly raised his eyes from the inside of a forensics magazine, where the Shift supervisor, Gil Grissom's article was. "Maybe because I'm not a ten year-old."

Chris, a relative newcomer to the night shift, although a seasoned regular of Shift, narrowed his eyes at the two birds, assessed the costumes, and then nodded in approval. "Neoprene. Can't say I'd necessarily go for that, but yeah …. Nice job." He then looked at, and shrugged, at Archie. "I didn't think it was for another few weeks. I guess it's a smaller one."

Hodges groaned as if completely disgusted by the topic, but it was obvious he wanted part of it. "Great. So here we'll have another bunch of superhero related fatalities and crime sprees."

Mark remained pretty silent, although he was rather wide-eyed at the exchange. Jason, however, opted to take part.

"What in the nine-circles of Hell are you talking about?"

Archie chuckled. "You're pretty hardcore, aren't you? You know I had a buddy of mine from the Star Trek Fansite who was exactly the same as you. He was beyond obsessed." He looked at Chris and smirked. "Damn guy spoke only in Klingon, and when his wife wanted kids …" he finished by laughing uncontrollably. "Let's just say that basic human biology escaped him."

Jason cleared his throat. "I'm only going to ask you one more time. What are you talking about?"

Archie gave a dismissive wave and wrapped the headphone cord of his iPod carefully around the small metal unit. "I can't wait to find out what the … "He put on a typically superhero announcer's voice " … G-Force Commander and his second got arrested for."

Jason let out a short cough. "Either you let me hit him, Mark. Or I'm going to set something of the kid's free in his lab."

Mark shook his head with a smile. He was familiar with the topic. Too many times Princess had moaned about Keyop wanting to go to a comic book convention dressed as something other than the Swallow of G-Force. "He thinks we're G-Force fans."

"Fans?"

Mark nodded. "Remember that girl you dated who liked to dress up as Sailor Moon for you?"

"Who's Sailor Moo …. Oh, yeah. The Japanese cartoon character chick. Yeah, what about her?"

Mark kind of shrugged. "Well. People do it for conventions and stuff. He thinks we're one of those."

Jason's brow flicked. "Oh now I want to hit him even more."

"Hey," he shrugged slowly with a sigh and resigned voice. "He could have suggested we were into Yaoi."

"Which means?"

Chris, who was still admiring the outfits, decided to answer the question. "If you don't know, you probably don't want to know."

Mark nodded in thanks. "That answer probably just saved your life." He extended his hand in greeting. "I'm Mark, this is Jason. Believe it or not, we're the real Eagle and Condor."

Chris' eyes flicked up quickly, initially doubtful, but quickly turned into belief when he caught sight of the rest of the team behind the glass. "Oh. Shit." He rubbed his hands on his lab coat and extended it in reciprocation. "I'm Chris. I'm, uh, assisting in Trace and Ballistics while I finish university. Really surprised to see you guys here."

Hodges shifted from one foot to the other and successfully managed to keep himself cool and collected in the presence of the birds. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Mark's nose twitched and he flicked his gaze at Jason, who was still staring in the direction of Archie. He rolled his eyes and looked back at the two criminalists. "We're assisting on an ongoing case."

"No shit?" Chris exclaimed. "Which one."

Hodges decided to answer. "I guess the serial, right?"

Jason shot his gaze to the intelligent (check: geek) looking man. "And just how would you know that?"

He shrugged. "What else would you be interested in other than the case of the century? You guys want money, solving the serial would get it for you."

"Yeah," Jason muttered slowly. "Because that's what G-Force do; go and battle for the love of money. World peace and safety to our citizens doesn't factor into it at all."

Mark let out a long breath. "Jason, please. This isn't the time."

Chris looked between Jason and Hodges with wide eyes. "Yeah well. Uh. You guys have the best toys. Graveyard could use some of that in this case. Shit. We really don't want to lose any more chicks to this low-life moron."

Hodges let out his trademark faux long-suffering breath and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "I'd think hard before calling him moron, Chris. He's managed to outwit this entire department."

"You sound impressed by him."

"Try intrigued."

"You're sick."

"I'm getting into his head," Hodges tried as he tapped his finger to his temple. "Best way to get them is to become them."

Chris coughed and flicked his eyes up to the two G-Forcers, who seemed to be absolutely fascinated by the conversation. "Uh. Yeah, Hodges. Um. Since when were you part of the investigative unit? Last time I checked you were only a low-life Trance Analyst labrat."

He pursed his lips a'la Grissom and adopted a self-satisfied expression. "I was the one who broke the Miniature case, remember."

"No. Sara going missing and forcing us to move our asses broke the case."

"Bleach, remember?"

Chris groaned and flicked his hand in a dismissive manner. "Yeah, whatever. I'm pretty sure Grissom would have come up with it sooner or later."

Mark finally interjected with a softly asked: "So how much do either of you know about the case?"

Hodges smirked and shifted his head from side to side in a proud manner. "I know everything about it." He jutted his chin to the window, where Grissom was in the process of explaining something to the individuals in the room. "You see Grissom and I are very close-knit. We share all sorts of information."

"Oh, really? Then perhaps you might be a good liaise for Jason and myself during this investigation," Mark said with a smile. "I'd really hate to have to interrupt him while he's in his zone; or whatever you investigators call it."

Hodges smile flicked at the corners of his mouth, and his look appeared to darken slightly. "Are you asking me to work alongside G-Force for this investigation?"

Mark nodded with a smile. "If you have time, of course."

Chris groaned painfully, but Hodges nodded quickly. "Of course, Commander. It would be a pleasure."

"Great," Mark said softly. "Then if you wouldn't mind gathering me the intel that you already have, I'd appreciate it."

Hodges grunted an affirmative and strode purposefully past them. Jason watched with a scowl as he walked in to a lab and turned his attention to his Commander. "Mark. Was that really a good idea?"

Mark crossed his ankles and leaned back on the wall. His arms were still folded across his chest, but he lifted one hand to stroke at his chin. "Yeah."

"Yeah? A one-word answer. From you?"

Mark's eyes slid first to Chris, and then to Jason. "Sometimes one is enough." He tilted his head at Chris and let a flick of his eyes indicate something on the young man's neck. "Did you get in to a fight, Chris?"

The young man reddened and lightly rubbed his fingers against a set of scratches on his neck. "Um. Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"Hmm?"

Chris sighed in embarrassment. "Me and a few friends were recreating a scene from Star Trek Episode …"

Mark interrupted with a raise of his hand. "I'm not a Star Trek fan."

Chris smirked. "Gee. I thought if anyone would be into it, you would be, Commander. "

"Ahh, no. Got enough alien encounter war games in my real life thank you."

Chris sighed. "Must be a blast."

"It has its moments, I suppose."

"Working alongside the Swan; the daydream of every Sci-Fi fan on the planet; makes you the envy of mankind, you know that, right?"

Mark smiled and nodded. "She's quite the woman."

Chris nudged him with his elbow and gave a wink. "That uniform must be distracting at times, eh?"

Jason and Mark groaned simultaneously, but the Eagle answered the question. "I generally find the missiles coming at the Phoenix, or the giant mecha stomping mankind to be more of a distraction than a pair of white panties."

Chris' brow flicked doubtfully. "Yeah. Okay." He shrugged and Pulled his backpack strap higher onto his shoulder. "Well, nice to meet you both. I'm sure we'll bump in to each other again." He pointed in the direction of the locker room. "I should clock in and get some work done."

Mark and Jason nodded their goodbyes and followed the young man with their eyes.

Jason cleared his throat after Chris was out of sight and slouched in front of his Commander with his arms across his chest. "Of the two of them, explain to my why you picked the creepy one to help us out."

"Because he's creepy."

Jason raised a brow. "You know. There are times I really wonder if your head's on right. Why would you voluntarily choose a guy who could quite easily be the human version of Zoltar, to work with us to rescue Princess?" He pointed with his whole hand in the direction of the locker room. "I think the Star Trek aficionado might have been a more obvious choice, don't you?"

"You'd think so," Mark said softly as he kept a low gaze on Hodges at his computer.

Jason's head tilted. "Oh don't you dare go cryptic on me."

Mark's eyes slid to his second. "Chris will be a good go to if we need to infiltrate any Trek groups," he shuddered making the comment, but quickly returned pensive. His chin jutted toward Hodges. "Him … Well. There's just something about him that doesn't feel quite right."

Jason narrowed his eyes for sharp focus on the man. "Which prompted you to force us to work with him for what reason, exactly?"

"I just don't have a good feeling about him, okay? I want to keep him close."

Jason nodded slowly. "Princess always says to trust your instinct. You usually get it right." He slid his eyes back to Mark. "As long as you aren't saying he knows where she is."

One side of Mark's mouth stretched into a smile. "If I thought that, Jason, he'd be up against the wall with my boomerang in his gut."

"She's going to be okay, Mark."

"I know, Jase."


	4. Chapter 4

She shuddered in the cool of the apartment bedroom. Her captor had been considerate enough to lay a soft blanket over her partially naked form, but a moment of thrashing and screaming for assistance had thrown most of it off her. Now, all she had covered was one leg and part of her lower torso.

Damn, it was a cool afternoon.

She could feel the burn in her wrists that warned her she'd bruised and likely friction-burned the soft skin underneath her wrist. Her ankles, while they didn't burn, ached and throbbed. There was pressure pain in her buttocks and hips, which warned her that she should roll on to her side to maintain steady, even and unhampered blood flow to her lower extremities.

But aside from all that and a tingling pain at the site she was tasered she was doing pretty okay.

Her mind warred between anger, fear, frustration and hopelessness. It was hard for her, being the G-Force Swan, to be tied up like this with no contact with Mark and the team. Usually in cases like this she could taunt Zoltar for a little while, wait for Mark's telltale whistle, then smile, swoon and wait for rescue.

Now, however, she was alone … completely alone.

Her eyes wandered up to her communicator, which sat low on her wrist; too low for her to attempt to use. It sat there in a mocking manner, sometimes flashing with an unheard communication from someone in her team, sometimes vibrating for the same reason.

Frustrating ….

She licked at dry lips and let the fingers of her left hand wrap around the chains to the cuffs. She took a deep, shuddering, breath and closed her eyes. With a grunt she pulled her left hand down as close to her mouth as possible, unfortunately pulling her right hand into and awkwardly through the thin rail separations of the bed head.

She opened her mouth and let out a painful cry at the snapping of phalange in her index finger, and opened her eyes to a squint to see if she was within range to transmit a message. Her breathing panted as she pulled harder at the cuff to get closer.

She angled and extended her neck as much as possible.

"G … G3 to G1 … Mark …"

~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~

It had been roughly thirty minutes since Mark had been dragged out of the assignment discussion with Grissom and his team of investigators. While thirty minutes seemed like only a mere handful of minutes to most, and could be deemed no more than the time required for a couple of quick cigarettes and a coffee break, to the two merging teams, thirty minutes was an eternity.

Mark had been informed by Nick, after being assigned to an evidence room with Nick Stokes and Sara Sidle, that the crucial moments after an abduction or murder case, was 48 hours. After 48 hours, the statistics for finding enough information to rescue/prosecute/etc. was cut in half, then half again, and so on. So thirty minutes equated to just over 1% of the crucial moments they had left to find the missing Swan.

A long wasted 1%.

They were already three hours into the case. Three hours. 6%?

Oh who wants to speak in percentages?

1%, 6%, 20% or 50%. Any percentage of time wasted was unacceptable.

With that swirling through the young Commander's mind, it was somewhat understandable that he was acting impatient. Unlike a child demanding "are we there yet?" on a long trip, however, Mark was more hurried in actions, speech and analysis.

Nick and Sara did their best to ignore the impatience. Together they methodically worked through what they had and tried not to notice the pacing and harsh sighs of the other occupant in the room. At times, though, it was difficult.

Sara tweezed a piece of fabric, now known to be a piece of Princess' civilian uniform, and held it in front of a magnifying glass. She tried not to focus on the white flash of the Eagle's wings past the fabric as she held it to the light.

Finally, however, she had to comment.

"Commander?"

He stopped mid-stride and turned his face to her. "Call me Mark, please."

She took in a deep breath and shifted the fabric and magnifying glass to one side to look at him. "Mark. I need you to stop pacing. Your wing fabric tends to catch the light, and it's distracting me."

His head tilted to one side, and for a moment it seemed that he might react on her harshly. Instead, however, his cheek ticked and he nodded. "Of course, I'm sorry."

She pointed to a stool beside where he was seated and flicked her shoulder to tell him to sit. "Maybe if you worked through this with us, rather than just waiting for us to find something, it might make you feel better."

His face fell into a genuine smile of gratitude. "Thank you, but I'll just get in your way."

Nick sniffed from his position across the table from Sara, where he had both eyes in a microscope looking at hair samples. "It'll be less distracting to us than you stalking the room." He raised his head from the scope and reached across for another slide. "You're actually as intimidating as the rumours suggest. I'm scared that if we come up with bupkis I'll suddenly be eunuched by a fast striking bladerang."

"Birdrang," Mark corrected softly with a smile. "And don't be so concerned, right at this point, there is only one person I wish to use it on."

"Promise me that, Mark," Nick muttered with a smirk as he inserted his new slide into the arms of the microscope. "Because sitting here with my legs crossed this tightly is really beginning to get uncomfortable."

The admission drew a snort from Sara who, although ready to fire off about three separate and brilliantly witty counter comments, simply just drew the fabric back into her field of vision. "Maybe if I'm forced to explain to you what I'm doing, it'll make me a little more … how do I say it?…"

"Focused?" Mark offered as he took a seat beside her.

She flashed him a brilliant smile and nodded as she leaned in and held the fabric up to the light so that they could both look at it. "How's your vision?"

He leaned his forearms on the table and moved his head in close to hers to look up at the fabric. "10/10, why?"

She smirked. "The visor magnifies, right?"

He shook his head. "Nah. It distorts if anything. It's more designed for intel transfer than anything."

Nick's attention was immediate. "What, you mean, like. When you're out in the field, and the bosses need to get you some blue prints or something, it'll flash on your visor?"

Mark's eyes blinked slowly. "The shape isn't just a cosmetic design to match the uniform, Nick. The angles and contours actually … well …" he gave a laugh. "Well, I barely understand it all. Princess tried to explain it to me, but I didn't totally get it all."

"Just a tactician, eh?"

Mark caught the tease and reacted with a shrug. "Tactician, pretty boy, pilot – That's about all the multi-tasking I can do."

Nick snorted, Sara rapped him on the helmet. "Focus, Eagle."

Mark smiled, grateful that Nick and Sara were able to calm him down and relax him a little. He let his eyes focus on the fabric and listened as she explained what exactly she was looking for. The moment she inhaled sharply and broke out into a huge smile and almost cheered "Epithelials!", his communicator began to flash a deep magenta colour.

His eyes widened and fell to the bracelet. "Princess?" he asked softly, hopefully.

"_G … G3 to G1 … Mark …"_

He heard the strain in her voice as she called to him. He immediately bolted from his chair and quickly strode to the glass wall of their room to rap his knuckles against it to get Jason's attention.

"Princess! Princess, it's Mark. Are you okay?" He looked up at Jason through the glass and pointed at the communicator. Immediately Jason, Grissom, and Anderson moved to join the threesome in the adjacent examination room.

"_Mark, please don't talk," _she said with a sigh in her tone_. "My bracelet's on mute, I can't hear you."_

"Dammit," he cursed low, "How are we going to get any information from her?"

Jason frowned. "She sounds like she's in pain."

"I'll instruct Zark to induce an endorphin rush for her." Anderson offered lowly as he pulled a cell-phone from his pocket.

Princess transmitted again.

"_Mark. I'm okay," _she said breathlessly._ "I have a couple of bruises, a broken finger, a nasty burn from the taser, but other than that I'm okay. Um, I'm just cold. He left me wearing only my underwear …"_

"Tell us where you are," Mark said into the communicator. "Tell us where you are so we can find you."

"_Typical guy," _she giggled softly, then grunted uncomfortably. _"Never listen. I can't hear you. I'm cuffed on a bed, and can't reach the communicator to send a scramble or switch it to voice – maybe the Chief can do it remotely?"_

Mark raised his eyes to Anderson, who shook his head at the unasked question. "Ahh shit."

Grissom leaned on the doorframe and cleared his throat. "Can you trace her communications?"

Mark huffed. "Only onboard the Phoenix. Keyop would need her pass codes to do that – if he was onboard. The whole team are here."

"That's a fairly easy solve I would think."

Jason nodded in agreement with Grissom. "The kid's been reading her online diary for years, I'm pretty sure if he can crack her codes on the laptop, he can crack it on Big Blue."

Mark cleared his throat, somewhat embarrassed that he wasn't exactly proving why he was Commander right now. "I have all the override codes. Jason, tell Tiny and Keyop to board the Phoenix and remain on board for further instruction. I'll forward the information via Zark."

Jason smirked and looked at Anderson. "You're good at giving orders, Chief. You wanna do it."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not telling the big guy he's off the investigation."

Mark pressed his hand on the table beside Nick's Microscope and kept his communicator high near his mouth. "Will someone do it sometime this millennium?" He shook his head slowly as Anderson walked out of the room and flicked his hand for Tiny and Keyop to follow him.

Princess appeared to sigh softly. _"I'm guessing that seeing I haven't heard your voice that the Chief can't do it. I'm going to have to try and tell you what I think you need to know."_

"That's my girl," Mark said softly. He pointed to a notebook in front of Sara. "Sara, would you mind?"

She nodded. "Concentrate on her, Mark. I'll take down anything relevant to our investigation."

Nick pulled a small voice recorder from his back pocket. He held it to the side of Mark's wrist. He smirked when he caught Mark's single raised brow look. "Hey, man. Archie might be able to get something from the background noise."

"Thank you."

"_I can't tell you where I am, Mark, or even who really took me. All I can get from my surroundings is a bare bedroom and …" _she shifted and groaned _"…sometimes a misty chill through the window. It's not constant, but every so often it makes me shudder."_

Mark raised his eyes to Grissom, who was in a pursed-lips concentration of her words. He didn't interrupt the older man in fear of distracting his mind from the call. A quick sweep of the eyes revealed that all three investigators were in the same state of mind. The only one who seemed to have any other distraction from the call was Sara, who was busy wiping the fabric with a clear piece of tape. He could see, though, by the twitch in her cheek, that she was listening as closely as possible to what Princess was saying. The pencil scratch on the note-pad, too, was clear evidence that Sara's focus was sharp.

Thank the Lord for level heads.

"_About my captor. Mark, I don't know exactly who he is, or what his actual motives are towards the other girls … But I have a fair idea why he went after me." _

"Because you're the Swan?" Nick sighed to himself, which immediately drew a dark look from the Eagle.

"_He doesn't know I'm part of G-Force," _She said softly, as if answering Nick's comment. _"For the moment, he knows me only as Sarah. I'd really like it if you could keep it that way – please, no press conferences or anything like that. I'm actually scared about what will happen if he finds out."_

Mark looked across at Grissom. "No further than your immediate team, Grissom."

"I have to agree with you on that."

"_So. Uh. Mark. I need you to promise me you won't get mad at me. Promise me. This time I want you to respond. I can feel the vibration on my wrist when you answer."_

"Why would I be mad?" he asked with a frown. "I won't get mad, Prin."

She sighed and whimpered simultaneously. _"If it helps you find him, the guy who took me … Um. Remember back when I was attacked down town; you know. The night you finally actually decided to make your move on me?" _She let out a small giggle and then ended it with a sigh. _"I should have let you and Jason go after him …"_

Both Mark and Jason flashed horrified glances at each other. Both of them breathed the same, regretful "no".

"_Yeah. You know I watch Law and Order SVU all the time, and I yell at the screen when those girls who get attacked don't report it, and then another girl gets raped or killed … And I go ahead and do the same thing."_

"Don't dwell on it, Sweetheart. Just tell us how to find you," Mark urged more for his own benefit than Princess'.

"_It's my fault, you know," _She moaned painfully. _"If I'd reported the incident, or had let you and Jason go all G-Force Knights on him, then the last two girls would still be alive, and I'd be at dinner with you …"_

Sara tilted her head sympathetically at Mark. This was a scenario that she saw far too often. "I wish you could tell her it's not her fault, Mark, because it isn't."

Mark closed his eyes and sighed. "We'll never be able to convince her of that."

"No. I know."

"_But. I can wallow in my own guilt and loathing later. Mark, on my laptop, in a hidden folder on the desktop is twelve months of communication from this guy. He calls himself Chris, and …" _She whimpered, obviously holding off crying. _"Well. His emails are pretty bad. I really should have seen this coming, but I really thought he was just all talk, you know. And I'm the Eagles' girlfriend. I thought I was safe from your average run of the mill scary guy."_

"I'm sorry I let you down, Princess," he answered with a sad blink of the eye that freed a solitary tear from his lashes.

"_I assume you're at the Crime Lab – possibly working with Doctor Grissom and his team. Trust him, Mark. If anyone can find me, his team can … Just …" _she let out a gasp. _"A Cop. Mark, I just remembered. This guy is a cop … I think he said he was a criminalist." _She was heard to begin to struggle against her ties. _God, Mark. Please tell me you and Jason haven't stormed the lab and ordered a complete lab lockdown until you find me. I don't need them to know who I am. If he finds out, then I'm dead." _

Jason's face fell in to a long glare that was divided between the two male criminalists sharing the evidence room with him. "Someone working here …" the words were spoken so darkly that Nick shuddered.

"I promise you, Condor. I have a damn solid alibi for the past 12 hours."

"As have all of my team," Grissom said smoothly, calmly, as if shrugging off the unspoken threat from the world's most dangerous man. "If what your Swan says is true, that the killer is someone in this lab – then he's not part of my team."

Mark's demeanour fell in to a mirror of Jason's. "I think you know what you have to do, Doctor Grissom."

"It's not that easy, Commander," Grissom retorted calmly. "I can't just lock down this lab. There are over a hundred employees here at any given time. There are three shifts. If I start calling every one of them in, then they're going to know we're on to them."

"Don't make us do it, Doctor. I can assure you that the interrogations won't be pleasant if we are forced to do it."

Sara pressed her fingers into the table and pushed herself to a stand. She blew a long breath of air out through pursed lips and stepped to the open door to close it. "We don't need the entire lab to hear this conversation," she muttered quietly. She took up a protective position beside Grissom and ran her tongue across her top lip as she regarded Mark with false bravado. "Grissom's right, Mark. We have to take this carefully. Let us work through what we have, we'll look through the time sheets and eliminate those who are female, or were on duty at the time of her abduction."

"Which means he can walk out of here in the meantime and go back to her."

Grissom angled his head into a light tilt. "We can make that more difficult than you make it seem. We don't need to panic this man into returning to her to kill her."

"And we don't need to waste time."

"It's better than rushing into it and making mistakes."

Mark's lip curled into a manner that was more Condor than Eagle. "Rushing into it is what we do best."

Grissom remained steadfastly calm under the glares of the G-Force leaders. He raised his head and gave Mark a sideward stare. "This isn't a G-Force mission, Commander. This is an abduction investigation. Remember that the victim here is your third in Command and your lover. You aren't exactly thinking rationally right now."

Princess' scared voice crackled through light static, once more. _"Mark. I'm scared. I really need you here right now. But please don't do what I know you're doing right now. I'll be safe enough if they all don't know who I am. You can tell Doctor Grissom, and maybe his immediate team – I know it's not them. Tell them that their killer is a white guy, he's got dark hair, is, um …." _ She hiccupped and held her breath. _"God, Mark I have to go … I think someone's here … I … Bye .."_

Her communication cut abruptly. Mark frantically called her name and punched his thumb into the communicator as if expecting the action to bring her back to the conversation.

She didn't.

He took a couple of deep breaths and lowered his head. His shoulders heaved with his breathing and his face scrunched in frustration.

It took a long few seconds before anyone could say anything, and it was Jason who chose to do so. "Skipper. There's a very expensive microscope at ten o'clock just within reach …"

He felt six eyes lock on his shoulder as his rotator cuff slowly turned and rippled a contraction through his shoulder. In response to Jason's comment, Mark's hand suddenly shot forward to grab the item in question. His fingers barely had time to grasp it firmly before he let out a loud yell and spun to throw it against the nearest wall. As a follow-though, he launched at the wall beside it. He threw himself against it, fists, then forearms, then a twist and shoulder. Letting a kempt emotion finally burst free, he lay his glass visor against the wall as if pressing his forehead against it. His arms raised above his head to lay on the wall, and he began to sob.

Sara, ignoring the fact that a $3000 piece of equipment had just been destroyed, stepped forward with the intention of offering this twenty-something kid some sympathetic support. She was surprised when a navy-blue gloved hand shot out in front of her to prevent her approach. She looked up with a frown to the Condor.

"Leave him," he ordered firmly.

Her eyes widened and head jutted forward in confusion as she used both her hands to indicate the Eagle's shaking form. "But he needs support, Condor."

"And you giving him a hug and saying "there, there" isn't going to do anything except upset your boyfriend. He doesn't need you to get maternal on him, he needs you to do your job."

"Oh come on …"

Grissom sighed and shook his head from beside her. "Sara …" It was a warning, a gentle warning, but a warning none-the-less. "We have work to do."

She slouched and gave Grissom a look that told him she was falling hard and fast into her empathetic trap. "But, Griss…"

"I heard you cheer earlier," he tried, hoping that putting her mind back onto evidence might take her mind off the slowly settling Eagle. "Did you find something we can use?"

Her head ticked to one side and mouth stretched into a smile. "Yes. Yes. Looks like the perp might have left us a gift on her shirt fragment."

"Tell me it's biological, Sara. Make my day."

She stepped over fragments of the scope that had sprayed across the floor and swept small pieces off the tape she'd been wiping the fabric with. "Epithelials, Griss. Lots."

He actually smiled. "Take it to Wendy, tell her it's a priority." He turned his attention to Jason, and a still horrified looking Nick. "Condor. Please see to your Commander, we may need his and your services very soon. Nick. Come with me."

~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~

Princess' breath held heavy in her chest as she listened hard to the sound that had caused her to break communication with Mark.

Oh she hoped that he managed to hear her okay. She hadn't been able to give him too much information, but she was sure that it would be enough to at least give the criminalists a head start on their investigation. She was intimately familiar with this case, and knew that Doctor Grissom and his team were heading up the serial case.

Grissom. That was a name she knew very, very well. He was a brilliant man and a gifted scientist. She'd even snuck into a lecture early on in the war, when he took part in a forensics seminar she was required to attend in order to glean information on explosives. In between seminars, she'd crept in to his Entomology lecture.

She hoped that Mark and Jason would offer him the freedom and leeway to do what he did best.

Although, knowing the two of them, that might not be what would happen.

The rattle of the door handle in another room startled her. It took everything she had not to whimper in fear of what was to come.

"Hello," a soft voice with a decidedly new-immigrant accent called. "Room service."

Princess blinked. Room service? She was in a hotel?

Her breath expelled, then inhaled hard. Time to yell for assistance.

As she readied to voice her need for help, her captor's voice boomed almost robotically back to the woman.

"No need for your service today. My wife is not well. I'll call the front desk when we are ready for service. Thank you."

Princess groaned softly. Chances were that if this woman found out she was held captive, the killer would probably take her too.

"Damn," she whispered to herself. She couldn't put another woman through this.

Not another one.

She lay her head back down heavily on the bed and closed her eyes tightly. Her killer was obviously still around.

But. Wait a minute.

Her eyes flashed open in horror. She'd sent a transmission to Mark. She hadn't been quiet about it.

He had to know now, that she was the Swan.

Dammit!

Her breath began to come in pants as she considered what this man might be planning for her. She knew his Modus Operandi. She knew he tortured and killed his victims in horrific manner.

She couldn't help it. Impending doom and the thought of what was to come brought her to panic. She fell into complete feminism – she began to weep.

"Mark," she breathed sadly. "Please help me."

A click from the adjacent room caught her attention and he inhaled her tears for a silent moment. She heard the distinct sound of a piece of audio equipment click in and out as if there was interference.

A recording?

Her captor had made a recording?

Her face fell at the discovery. Her only chance for escape was lost.

~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~

Grissom was his usual stoic self as he strode beside Nick towards a destination as yet unspecified. In all his years working within law enforcement, investigation, and with the Coroner's office, he could honestly say there was little that affected him any more. Detachment was always an easy ask. A bug is a bug, a body a body, a bullet a bullet, and a puzzle a puzzle. Some puzzles were easier than others, as within the toy kingdom, others – well – like a Rubik's Cube, were fairly unsolvable.

Up until this very moment, he'd believed this case would be filed quite neatly in that pile. However, like the mystery of the cube, all it could take was a simple little shift, a single tiny piece of enlightenment, and the puzzle would be solved.

Grissom had yet to actually solve a Rubik's Cube, but he was sure that this puzzle would come together. If it wasn't for the fact that they might lose this woman, barely out of childhood, in the process, he might dance himself a jig, or gloat to his pet tarantula.

Of course, he couldn't hide the merest hint of a satisfied smirk behind pursed lips like he usually did. Fortunately Nick didn't seem to notice.

"He's human after all."

Grissom let his eyes slide to the Texan and raised a curious brow. "The Eagle?"

Nick didn't look at his supervisor at all when he spoke. He stared down at the floor as if searching for an answer. "He's portrayed as larger than life; a hero who can overcome the greatest odds to lead him team to victory; a real-life Superman."

Grissom nodded. "He's much different in the flesh, isn't he?"

"Yeah, he's not so bullet-proof and invincible. He's …" he let out a breath and raised his eyes as Grissom opened the door to the computer lab and held it open with his palm to let Nick through first. "Vulnerable. Just like us."

"Yes," Grissom said slowly as he pointed to a chair in a silent request for Nick to sit in it. "Yes, he is."

Nick pulled a chair from under the desk and took a seat, robotically pulling toward him a grey wireless keyboard. He pressed the space-bar key and looked up at the monitor as it slowly ticked and warmed up. "I'm never falling in love, Griss."

"Yes you will."

Nick shook his head. "After watching you almost lose Sara, and now Mark and his … Sarah …" One brow flicked on his head. "No. I just won't fall in love with anyone named Sarah."

Grissom set his clipboard on the desk and flicked a sideward glance at Nick. "That joke's already been made today."

Nick actually opened his mouth in a single, hearty laugh. "Oh let me guess. Brass?"

The voice of the man in question sounded off from the doorway. "Whatever I'm being accused of is a complete and utter lie." He didn't wait for a witty response or an invite into the lab. He walked straight through the doorway, into the room and took the seat that Grissom was preparing to sit down in. "So what'd I miss?"

Grissom was the one who answered the question as he watched Nick expertly access the LVPD database. "The Swan made contact with her Commander."

"She okay?"

Grissom kept his eyes on the monitor. "For the moment, yes."

Brass ticked in air through his teeth. "And there's more, right?" He caught a glance from Grissom and shrugged. "I just walked past an evidence room where the Eagle looked like a mess. The Condor is eyeballing everyone suspiciously … and dangerously … What's going on?"

Grissom let out a long breath. "He's a cop, Jim."

Brass let out a cough. "What?"

"Yeah," Nick confirmed as he began to tap search criteria into the main screen. "The Swan said our killer is a cop." He turned his head regretfully to Brass. "Criminalist, she thinks, that works here at the lab."

"Oh, shit."

"And then some," Grissom sighed. "If we don't get something viable and concrete to offer the Federation heads before Security Chief Anderson finds out, they'll tear this department apart."

"I.A. will storm the place inside a second if they catch wind of this."

Grissom nodded. "The Commander might be insisting for now that we head up this investigation, but only until this gets out. "

Brass blew out a quick breath of air in agreement. "I'd much rather handle an internal investigation than let someone suspicious from the outside in."

"Sara can handle anything internal," Grissom offered. "She's probably the best choice, less bias than most other officers."

"The most suspicious and ready to kick some ass," Nick corrected with a smirk as he scanned through a list of potential suspects. "Put her with the Condor and we'll find the killer in no time."

"No," Grissom asserted with a grunt. "If there is anything internal, I want Mark and Jason as far away from it as possible. Their presence in the lab is bad enough, if the killer got wind that they were questioning the staff, he'll bolt and we'll lose the Swan."

"And our chance at a clean arrest," Brass finished. "There are a lot of families out there that want some justice. If we let those guys loose – well, who knows what will happen."

"Shoot first, ask questions later," Nick muttered. "Condor justice."

"But that's not our justice," Grissom affirmed. "We need this to be clean, with no room for reasonable doubt. The Las Vegas people will want absolute confirmation that this is the killer."

"Yeah, but do we really want them to know it's one of us?"

"Yes," Grissom answered quite matter-of-factly. "Cops can be killers too. Just like fire fighters, mothers, daughters, sons, fathers …"

Brass groaned and nodded his head. "Yeah, yeah. So what about the winged ones? What do we do about them?"

"Yeah," Nick droned as he tagged a couple of potential suspects. "Cause you know they want in."

"Distract them with evidence, Nick. Make them think that's the only course of action we have right now."

Nick tilted his head and widened his eyes in an "I hope you know what you're doing" manner. "Good luck with that."

"Luck is half our job."


	5. Chapter 5

Jason had a lowered head, but stared at his crumbling Commander across the room from him. He couldn't honestly say that he could blame Mark for his breakdown; Hell, he was pretty close to the same himself; but he was somewhat disappointed that Mark had let it out so publicly.

And of course, women being women, the damn guy had dragged a key investigator into the pit of eternal empathy. That was exactly what they didn't need right now. Last thing that was going to help Princess out of this mess was a wibbling Eagle and a pouting, sympathetic female investigator getting all distracted because of emotion. And, of course, being that every male on the police force/criminalistics payroll was under suspicion, all women needed to be straight, focused and sharp.

He couldn't say what it was that actually made him stand back and allow Mark to get out what he needed to. Some might suggest respect, although he'd vehemently deny it, others might just say the smartest thing to do – from a tactical standpoint – was allow the release to uncloud the mind and regain total focus.

Some might say, even, that he was just scared to tell his Commander to suck it up and be a man – of course, only those who didn't know better would suggest such a heinous thing.

So, being a military kind of person, Jason opted to take the second reasoning. Tactical response.

It worked in his mind.

He finally inhaled deeply and checked the time on his communicator in an obvious display of impatience – in case anyone was actually watching.

"Are you about done, Mark?" he asked in about as a detached voice as was possible.

Mark let the final hiccup of emotional annihilation ripple through his chest and sniffed hard. "Damn."

"Damn about sums it up, Skipper. That was a Hell of a display you just put on."

Mark detected the distinct sound of Jason's trying to make an effort to sound all pissed off, and found himself willing to play along. "Yeah, if I was a woman."

"Damn straight."

Mark slowly pulled himself off the wall, but fell into a continued despondent slouch by pressing his palms into the wall and letting his head hang low in between them. "Sorry, Jason."

Jason grunted and finally felt the need to approach his team leader. He took up position on the wall beside him and pressed his back into the white surface. He folded his arms across his chest and looked down at the floor, crossing his legs at the ankle. "You might want to save your apology for the three criminalists who were in here when you destroyed their equipment."

Mark kept his hands on the wall, but shifted his head and gaze to survey the damage. "It's just a microscope, Jason. I'll make sure it's replaced with the top of the line whatever as soon as is humanly possible."

Jason gave a shrug. "I'm sure they have another one in this place somewhere. Can't see them all lining up to use just one."

Mark huffed what could be described as a poor attempt at a laugh. "Then I'll replace it with a couple of them."

"So," Jason smirked, his head still lowered. "Need a hug and for me to tell you that everything's going to be fine because the Condor's here?"

A brow slowly rose on Mark's head, and he rolled his gaze up to look at Jason's side-profile. "I'd rather have had Sara do it, but if you're offering…"

Jason's face shot up to Mark and he immediately backed away from him, and up, palms out, in a stay away gesture. "Oh Hell no."

That made the Eagle smirk. He flipped his body around to press his back into the wall and adopted pretty much the same standing position as Jason had just broken from. "Then don't offer."

"If you call me a tease, I will so kick your ass …"

Mark shuddered a chaste laugh and rolled his head backward to raise his gaze to the ceiling. "Ahh, Jason. I'm stymied here."

"I can't see how. Princess just gave us one Hell of a piece of information to work on."

"Yes. A piece of information that is so damn sensitive that us leaping all over it could do more harm than good right now."

Jason leaned against the table and pulled a well-chewed feather from his wing. "Howso?"

"Well." He let out a sigh. "These people aren't stupid. Their jobs require them to work out stuff. This guy is already going to be on edge because we're here to begin with …"

"Which is his own stupid fault," Jason interrupted gruffly. "He's the one who decided to play dress-up."

Mark gave a side nod of the head in a quasi-shrug of agreement. "A reminder I didn't need, but yes."

"And these idiots," he thumbed over his shoulder to indicate the lab techs, "thought we played dress up …"

Mark rolled his eyes. "Now, now, Jason. Play nice, please."

Jason's lip twitched. "Any one of them could be him, you know."

"I'm painfully aware of that, Jason. That's the whole issue here."

A dangerous smile spread across the Condor's face. "Let's interrogate them one, by one. Let's start with the Asian guy from the hallway."

Mark lifted a hand to cup thoughtfully at his jaw and half-closed his eyes in deep thought. "No interrogations for you, Jason. I'd much rather prefer Doctor Grissom and Detective Brass handle anything of that nature."

"Why?" Jason challenged. "Scared I might intimidate with my own brand of questioning?"

"Actually yes. We'll have about fifty people own up to the crime just to get the Hell away from you."

He chuckled to himself proudly in response, but said nothing.

Mark continued however. "What concerns me is that we are obviously short one member, and these guys aren't going to believe that Princess is on assignment for too much longer."

"Especially when you lose your shit every ten seconds." He caught a sudden irritated glare from his Commander and took it with a shrug. "Look, man. You have got to keep a handle on it. If you don't want these people to find out it's Princess who's missing, then you need to find a better way of holding it together."

Mark blinked and cleared his throat. "I know. I know. I just feel as useless as the Phoenix minus a mecha right now."

Jason laughed through pursed lips. "Damn, you let Tiny hear you say that, and you'll be a dead man,"

"Yeah."

Jason thumbed at his nose and looked Mark square in the eye. "Let me make a suggestion."

"I'm all ears."

"How about you forget you're a boyfriend for a minute and focus on the fact you're the Commanding officer of the G-Force team."

Mark's eyes flashed open. "What?"

Jason held back from rolling his eyes. "Get your head in the game, man. I know it's Prin that's missing, and damn, it's hurting us all, but she needs you to do what you do best and approach this like the G-Force Commander."

Mark let out a long breath and nodded. "Yeah, I hear ya."

"You and I need to come up with something that takes the attention off the fact that we're down one man so we have some time to actually let these guys do their thing."

"The longer Princess is AWOL, the more the killer is going to clue in and react."

"Exactly."

Mark pursed his lips, blew out a breath and ticked in an inhale. His eyes focused on a shard of lens glass on the table as he considered what options they had at their disposal. "Okay," he breathed finally. "I think I can solve the problem of speculation about the Swan."

"How?"

Mark gave his second a wink and smirked as he raised his communicator to his lips. "This is G1 Eagle to Centre Neptune, 7-Zark-7."

Zark's response was immediate. _"Oh Commander, I've been waiting to hear from you. I'm so worried for Princess."_

"Let us do the worrying, Zark. Have you uploaded the override codes to the Phoenix?"

"_Yes, Commander. Tiny and Keyop are onboard and are currently working through the scan information we have so far. Residual waves from her communication are giving us a search radius of around 10 miles."_

Jason grunted. "Which doesn't exactly help us much."

"It's better than nothing, Jason. We can use that to further refine the search criteria for the staff here."

"Which is helpful only if this guy's got her holed up at his place."

"Good point." He turned his attention back to his communicator. "Zark. I want you to make sure that any information is passed down to Doctor Grissom at the crime lab. This information will be highly confidential, so ensure that only he is the recipient of any information – no leaving messages on cell-phones or with receptionists. Contact him directly."

"_Big ten, Commander. Is there anything else?"_

"Yes," Mark said with a smile as he kept his gaze on Jason. "Please patch me through to the P.R. department."

~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~

Chris leaned in the doorway to Archie's lab and watched through the glass wall of the lab, where the Eagle and Condor seemed deep in discussion flicking in between talking into their bracelets and to each other. His head was angled to one side as if trying to hear what was going on and eyes were steeled and focused.

"Hey, Arch. What do you think they're talking about."

Archie raised his head from the monitor to show his acknowledgement of Chris' question, but didn't take his eyes from the screen. "Who?"

"The Eagle and the Condor."

Archie's brow flicked, but his attention remained on the task at hand. "The cosplayers from the hallway?"

Chris took his attention off birds and looked at Archie with a frown. "Dude, they aren't cosplayers. Those two are the real thing."

Archie gagged and shot his gaze first to Chris and then toward the two men in question. "You're shitting me."

"Nope." He pointed with an open hand toward the layout room. "They're here for the serial."

Archie frowned and slowly pulled himself from the computer. With a confused expression he slowly walked toward his coworker and slouched in an almost timid manner. "Why the Hell would they be interested in that case?"

"Hodges told me that the serial just abducted a new victim, and he dressed as the Eagle to do it."

"Oh," Archie muttered just short of laughing. "Interesting. Try and frame the one guy on the planet who … who …" His attention was caught by the sight of something pink and decidedly feminine. "Oh sweet mother of all Holy. All of my fanboy fantasies have just come true."

Chris' face scrunched in confusion at Archie. "What?"

Archie all but panted as he pointed down the corridor. "It's her …"

Chris tilted his head and let his gaze follow Archie's instruction. He actually gasped at the vision only a hundred yards away. "Damn, man. I so volunteer to work with her …"

Archie smirked. "You're not on the serial, Christopher, my man. She's the electronics genius, as am I. I'll be the one working with her."

"Yeah," he breathed in reply. "And if you so much as look at her, you know the Eagle will wipe the floor with you."

"It'll be worth it."

They both held their breaths as the Swan lightly strolled up the corridor toward them. Their eyes scanned the length of white boot, over the short hem of the pink shirt, and then across the flaming Phoenix emblem that was half-obscured by her wings.

Chris actually whimpered when she finally reached them and batted lashes over impossibly green eyes.

"Good evening. Can either of you gentlemen please point me in the direction of my Commander?"

Chris' jaw actually quivered as he nodded and pointed up at the room across the corridor. "Uh, yeah. He's in there with … um …"

She let out a girlish giggle and dipped her head shyly. "Thank you."

Without another word, she turned on her heel, gave a short flick of her wing and stepped into the room with her Commander.

Archie let out a chuckle and slapped Chris on the arm with the back of his hand. "Real good work, there, Chris. You really let the man come out and …"

"Oh shut up," he muttered inside a self-disgusted growl. "It's not like you said anything to her."

Archie simply smirked as he watched her quickly step up to the Eagle, place one hand on his shoulder and cup his cheek with the other. "Damn, how does he concentrate working with her day in day out?"

"What's the opposite of Viagra, Arch?"

Both men erupted into the male equivalent of giggles, which was quickly interrupted by a familiar throat clearing of a man less than impressed.

"We don't have enough work, Gentlemen?"

Like teenagers caught reading pornography magazines in the school bathroom, both Archie and Chris coughed, ran their fingers sheepishly through their hair and stepped back from the doorway. Archie was the one that actually decided to apologise.

"Uh, yeah. Sorry Grissom. We just had a brief distraction."

Catherine, her hair loose and held back by a pair of sunglasses, raised a single brow and pursed her lips in a pouty smile. "Distracted by men in tights? Not that there's anything wrong with that, but … I wouldn't have picked you as…"

"Oh no, no," Archie frantically corrected, raising both hands, palms out in defense. "We weren't checking out the guys."

"Hell no," Chris confirmed as he pointed toward the lab. "We were checking out the Swan."

"The who?" Grissom asked, confused, as he let his attention shift to the lay-out room.

Catherine's brows both shot skyward as her mouth opened in a silent gasp. "But isn't she …?"

Grissom shook his head in complete and utter confusion as he let his arm, which was clutching a clipboard, drop to his side. "Excuse me …"

Catherine watched him stalk toward the closed door and shared a wide-eyed stunned gaze at Archie and Chris as she forced herself to follow.

Both men groaned at being caught, not realizing that Hodges had somehow silently made it into their circle.

"Arch, was it me or did Grissom seem …"

"Yeah," Archie answered. "A fan too, you think?"

Hodges let out a windless cough. "A fan of whom?"

Chris actually jumped. "What the … oh Hell, Hodges. Wear a bell or something, man."

"And miss the chance to overhear something interesting? Why would I want to do that?" He let his gaze swing between Archie and Chris. "So what is the latest? Why do you two look so … caught?"

Chris made a sound that, if he was a woman, could be described as a swoon. "The Swan finally made her appearance."

Hodges raised a brow, and his head to the room in front of them. He ticked his head to one side and let out a breath. "They really should give her a longer skirt."

~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~

Grissom was obviously flustered as he burst into the room, clipboard flailing to one side. His confusion was such that he didn't even realize that he almost closed the door in Catherine's face. Rather than reveal his state by asking the boys a stupid question, he simply approached the Swan and looked closely at her face.

She drew back in shock at being so openly examined, and blinked hard a couple of times then stepped back into Mark's chest. "Uh, hi?"

Grissom's eyes narrowed just a pinch in closer examination, then opened and slid to Mark. "Who is this?"

The Swan frowned and set her hands on her hips. Her tongue flicked out to wet her top lip and she made a point of scanning her eyes suspiciously up and down him. Finally she looked back up into his face and extended her hand to him. "Hi. I'm Princess, the Swan. Sorry I'm late."

Grissom's head excessively tilted to one side to look beyond her to Mark. "Press double?"

Her lips pursed and she guiltily looked over her shoulder at Mark in apology. He gave her a nod and put his hand on her shoulder. "I thought it would be best if the Swan made a brief appearance." He tilted his face to look appreciatively at Princess double. "This is Lola. She's been working as my Swan's press double for about four years, now."

Grissom pursed his lips into an almost-kiss and nodded. "Thank you, Commander." He set his clipboard on the table and brushed glass off a stool before taking a seat. "That will solve one of the problems I have."

Mark removed his hand from Lola's shoulder and folded his arms across his chest. "There are more?"

"You mean aside from a serial killer that is law enforcement and a missing G-Force member?"

"I never imagined you to be the facetious type, Dr. Grissom."

Catherine smiled and took up position beside Grissom. "He does have flashes of humanity every so often."

Mark smiled. "The polar opposite of our robot at the Research Facility. Occasionally he does have his moments as a robot."

Lola ran her hands down her version of Princess' uniform and let her eyes fall on the front page on Grissom's clipboard. "Is that a list of potential suspects, Mr. Grissom?"

"Doctor," Mark corrected gently.

She seemed genuinely embarrassed at her slip. "Oh, sorry."

Grissom politely shook off the slip and pulled the clipboard toward him. "Commander, we've narrowed down the possibles to about fifty employees."

"Fifty?"

He nodded and let out a long sigh. "We narrowed it down as far as possible using the past cases to help refine the timelines. Whoever it is, is on permanent shift and is doing this on his time off."

"That's if this guy gave Princess the right information," Jason offered around the point of his feather. "He could have just been blowing smoke up her ass in case she did escape."

Lola nodded and rubbed at a contact-irritated eye. "What about the DNA results? The Chief told me that one of your investigators had found some skin or something on Princess' shirt."

Catherine watched her continue to rub her eye and lifted her head to look almost sideways at her. "I can get you some drops for those lenses if you like, Swan."

She shook her head, but continued to rub. "No. That's fine. Thank you."

Catherine shrugged. "DNA usually takes a little while to process. Unlike the shows on TV, we can't just stand next to the machine and it'll suddenly spit out the results."

"Oh, okay."

"Also," Grissom added slowly. "You have to consider that the skin cells might actually be from Princess herself."

"Which means this lead could end up … a dead end," Jason sighed.

"Not necessarily," Grissom replied. "We have a list narrowed down to fifty. Once we get hold of her computer, we can have Archie narrow it further."

"Fifty is still a lot, Grissom." Jason sighed.

"Better than three-quarters of a million, Condor."

Mark extended his hand to wordlessly ask to look at the clipboard. "Centre Neptune has managed to narrow the search area down to a ten-mile radius from this location. The Owl and Swallow are in the process of trying to get us a tighter range."

"It would help if she could contact us again."

Mark nodded. "We'd have her located within thirty seconds." He looked down at the clipboard and ran his fingertip down the page. "No criminal history?"

Catherine smiled at the question. "This is law enforcement, Mark. We can't even come under suspicion of a crime let alone commit one."

Mark smiled painfully. "Oh you can commit, just can't get caught."

"I still can't believe it's one of us."

"We all have traitors in our lives at one point or another, Catherine. Don't think we're blaming any of you for this – because we aren't."

She rolled her eyes. "But we're investigators, we should be able to see these things."

"And when you tell that to a mother who's son is a killer – don't think she doesn't say the same about herself."

Catherine smiled with squinted eyes at the comment. "Oh, Gil. I like him."

Grissom shook his head and simply sighed at the comment. Jason, however, gave a short laugh. "Yeah, wait till you have to work with him…"

A flash of brunette dashed past the door, paused, the turned to slide into the room. "Grissom I've got …." Sara stopped and stood bolt upright at the sight of the Swan in front of her. "Oh my … You got away?!"

Grissom raised his hand in silence and tilted his head at her – he knew excitement when he saw it. She had something, and she had something good. "Sara, this is Lola; the Swan's press double. The Eagle had her come in to take the focus off the Swan's absence in this investigation."

Sara offered a 100 megawatt smile and gave her a friendly once-over. "Oh you'll channel the focus alright."

Catherine chuckled behind her hand. Mark raised his brow. Grissom groaned and Jason gave a laugh.

"Nice, Sara."

"Hey, if I was a guy …"

Grissom extended his hand to her to ask for the paper. "Don't you dare say it, Catherine," he warned as he watched her lips purse in preparation to extend upon Sara's comment. "What did you find, Sara?"

Her eyes widened and her cheeks pinked as she practically danced in excitement. "The DNA is not a match to Princess. It's definitely our perp."

Grissom's eyes widened like a young boy's excited over a new comic book. "Really? Any matches in the Compliance database?"

Her shoulders actually fell in disappointment. "No. The systems are down at the moment, but Wendy has it in the system to check the minute it's back up and running."

Mark frowned. "The network is down?"

She nodded. "There was a screw-up with the new server upgrade. I.T. are working to have it back online as soon as possible."

"I'll have Zark link into it if you like, perhaps he can remotely search or help solve the problem."

Grissom angled his head to one side. "Let's look into the legality of that, first, Commander. I don't want this guy to get off on a technicality because we broke some grey area law."

Mark's eyes narrowed to almost slits. "Trust me Doctor Grissom. This individual won't be getting off anything. Legal loophole or not, if we get him first …."

"No." Grissom interrupted in a tone more angry than he actually was. "Don't make threats like that, Commander. If we have to testify …"

"Then ignore me," Mark said with a level of darkness that warned nothing was going to sway him from his final plan. "Because I'll do what I need to."

"Uh, we will," Jason affirmed. "Trust me, we will."

Sara actually shuddered, "Uh, okay. To save me putting my fingers in my ears and singing la la la, I'll tell you what else I found."

All eyes shifted to her.

Her eyes slid to Grissom as if asking his permission to speak, then shot to Mark. "The epithelials I found on the fabric were actually quite large, and dry."

Mark voiced what Jason was thinking. "Huh?"

Grissom looked up at her with a tilted head. "So our perp has a skin condition?"

"Or is peeling from sunburn," Catherine offered softly. "Have we had any guys come back from vacation lately?"

"We live in Vegas," Grissom growled. "Sunburn isn't exactly a rarity here."

"No," Sara said with a smile, "but Clobetasol Propion is."

Jason watched both Catherine and Grissom's eyes widen in excitement at the comment. He shrugged, looked at Mark and Lola, and then back at Sara. "That means absolutely nothing to me."

"No," Grissom said proudly as he shared a smile of admiration with Sara. "But it means something to us."

"Just tell me it isn't a creepy lubricant and I'll join you in that little group of smiles," he muttered crudely in response.

"Clobetasol," Sara advised. "Is an extremely powerful dermotological topical ointment used to treat skin conditions like Eczema and Psoriasis. Dermatologists are fairly hesitant to use it because it's pretty much as strong as you can get. It's pretty much the rolls Royce of ointments, really."

"And expensive," Catherine nodded. "A small tube of that will easily set you back almost $100."

Mark, who had been fairly silent for the exchange, suddenly cleared his throat to enter the conversation. "I really don't mean to rain on your parade, Sara. But who did you have run this particular test?"

She let out a breath and lowered her head. She tilted it on an angle so as not to be looking through brows disrespectfully at him when she answered. "You mean, did I hand the sample across to a potential suspect?"

He nodded.

"No Mark. While Hodges is my usual trace analyst, and he is probably the most unlikely to be an axe-wielding homicidal maniac, I had the girl from swing run it." She handed the report to Grissom, who immediately began to read every single line from the three-page document. "I don't know for how much longer we can continue to only hand off evidence from the case to the female staff without the boys finally getting fed up and suspicious."

"I agree," Catherine said with a nod. "Our best analysts are the guys. If we want to get the fastest and must trustworthy results, we need to involve them."

Mark licked parched lips and tapped his fingers on the table beside him. "Then we make sure that someone who has definitely been cleared is working right alongside them. Either one of my team, or one of yours."

"They don't exactly like to be shadowed, Commander," Grissom purred, still more interested in what he was reading.

"Tell them it's a CYA measure. Two sets of eyes, less chance of a screw-up."

"That'll work well enough," Catherine agreed. "This is a high-profile case after all."

Grissom nodded. He was still focusing on the papers in his hand. "Then, Sara. Please take either Mark or Jason with you to the Computer lab and do a Staff search on our drug plan. This product isn't something that anyone would willingly pay full price for. Anyone who has a claim for anything with this drug in it needs to be flagged as a potential."

"On it, Griss." She looked at the three birds. "Who wants to come with?"

Lola looked up at Mark with wide expectant eyes – she wanted in on this. "Commander?"

He shook his head. "Lola, I need you to stay with one of us at all times. You're as close as someone could get to Prin, but you don't have her knowledge. If someone expects you to know more than you do …"

She nodded. "I understand."

Jason rose from his stool and stretched. "I'll come with you, Sara. If I hang around angst boy here any more I fear I'll either kill him or myself to put me out of my misery."

She shrugged and smirked over her shoulder. "And you think I'll be any more pleasant?"

"Better on the eyes, anyway." He exaggerated a predatory growl as he followed, and then chuckled and slapped Grissom on the shoulder as he passed. "You know what I mean, eh?"

Grissom's eyes actually flared and his attention was completely removed from the paper. He looked at Jason and then back at Mark. "Commander?"

Mark shook his head. "Ignore him, he's just … acting to protect his reputation."

"Uh-huh."

Mark slouched and pulled his wings over his chest. "In the meantime, what do we do?"

Grissom pointed at a box that had been brought in to the room earlier. "Photographs of all scenes, Commander. You, your Faux-Swan, Catherine and I will analyse each one and see if we can find a commonality that may help us locate her."

Mark nodded and opened his wings, running his hands up his arms as if pulling up sleeves. "Well, let's get to it, then."

~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~

Jason kept his gaze firmly attached to Sara's rear as she led him toward yet another lab in the labyrinth that was the Las Vegas Police Department building. She was a fascinating woman to him; very unlike the normal groups of girls that clamoured around him at race-tracks and the such. There was no sign of silicone enhancement to this woman, nor were there skin-tight, nipple bearing, shirts or pants that could give him a hint as to her choice of underwear. She wore little or no makeup, and her hair wasn't styled and glistening with the haircare product of the month, yet she had to be the most stunning creature he'd laid eyes on for a long time.

She was confident in her own way. Her hair was a natural shade of chocolate brown that had it's own life and energy, giving a feathered end look that was as unintentionally stylish as it was scruffy. Her walk was almost slouched as she strode through the hallways with her eyes downcast on her clipboard. It could almost be described as masculine, had it not had that key feminine quality of smoothness inside the casual stride.

She wasn't seeking validation, acceptance or compliments. She didn't command it, or even try to coax it out of anyone – but she got them. More than once on their short trip to the end of the corridor, around the corner, then along another , he heard the appreciative tones inside the hellos of men she breezed past.

He wondered if she even understood or knew how attractive she really was.

His eyes were forced to rise above the belt when she turned with a smile to open a heavy door by use of her rump. She held her clipboard against her chest and all but winked at him as she tilted her head to tell him to follow.

"So do you to request the search, or shall I?"

His brow flicked as he walked by her into the room. "Shouldn't I be holding the door for you?"

She half-rolled her eyes and stepped inside the room behind him. "Let's not have that discussion right now."

His lips stretched into a smirk and he waggled a single brow. "Then how about we discuss it over drinks when this is all over?"

"I'm not even remotely tempted, Jason, but thank you for the offer."

He pursed his lips, noting her smile when she rejected his offer. "Not even a little?"

She let her eyes watch him coyly through her brows as she passed him to approach a desk, where a heavy-set middle-aged woman was seated. "Do you try this with every woman you meet?"

He shrugged in a nonchalant manner in response and then leaned his forearms on the table beside her. "Only the good looking ones."

Sara coughed as she caught the suspicious gaze of the Department Human Resources Manager. "Hi Susan," she said cheerfully, as if trying to convince an otherwise grumpy looking individual into cheering up.

Susan cleared her throat, looked over her glasses at Jason, then slid her eyes back to Sara. She seemed as unimpressed and annoyed as her outward demeanour showed. "Yes, Ms. Sidle?"

Sara set a piece of paper on top of the desk and shared a quick glance with Jason before settling her attention on Susan. "Grissom needs you to provide me with information on any staff member who has claimed this product on their insurance."

Susan blinked slow and let out a long breath. "That information is confidential, Ms. Sidle."

"I'm aware of that. However, this information is essential to our investigation so I …."

Susan interrupted her with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Unless Dr. Grissom or Mr. Ecklie come to me requesting this information, I won't provide it. I don't need to remind you how sensitive and private this information is and how I can't simply hand it off to any investigator who wants to snoop."

"Please, Susan. This information is critical if we are going to find this girl alive."

She repeated herself. "Unless Dr. Grissom or Mr. Ecklie come to me requesting this information…"

"How about if I asked?" Jason tried with as intimidating a voice as possible.

She slowly raised her eyes to the Condor. "Not even if your Eagle or the President of the Federation asked me, Condor."

He grunted in response. "Hey. We can have you charged with something, right. Hampering an investigation, or what …"

Sara halted him with a gruff grunt of displeasure. "Oh forget it, Jason." She snatched the paper from the top of the desk and almost tore it as she clipped it back onto the clipboard. Her eyes darkly met with those of the woman behind the desk. "Thank you anyway, Susan," she began with all the facetiousness possible. "I thank you so much for your assistance in an ongoing serial case and will be sure to ensure that the department heads know that you availed yourself completely to …"

"Give it a rest," Susan hissed back in response. "Protocol and law, remember? I am not legally allowed to provide just anyone with that information."

Sara curled a lip and spun on her heel to put her back to the woman and to lean on the desk as she texted the problem through to Grissom's phone. "There has to be an exception clause somewhere," she muttered mainly to herself.

Jason still had his gaze on Susan and drummed his fingers on the desk. He spoke low to Sara without actually looking at her. "You know. I could hold her down while you looked for the information …"

Sara didn't see Susan's irritated glare rise over the desk, but she certainly felt it. She snorted and shook her head at the comment. "I'm almost tempted to go with you on that. This is just wasting time we don't have."

"If Princess was here, she'd hack in to the police computers from the Phoenix …"

Sara shook her head and peeled herself off the desk as she waited for her phone to vibrate with word from her supervisor. The glimmer of a hot-pink laptop under the arm of a stalking Swallow, who looked impossibly lost, caught her attention. She elbowed into Jason's side to get his attention. "Is that her computer?"

Jason almost stumbled as he twisted his head to look out of the door. He caught sight of Keyop and frowned. "Hey, Kid," he called gruffly, immediately catching the attention of the youngster. "What the hell are you doing here, you're supposed to be on the Phoenix."

Keyop dramatically rolled his eyes and walked toward Jason and Sara as they walked toward him to meet at the door. As usual for the young Swallow, his response was preceded by indecipherable brips and bloops. "Tiny's with the Phoenix … Mark needed computer … Was told to bring it."

Sara's brow flicked at the robotic delivery of the boy's response. She slid her eyes to Jason, who had his hand out to the boy in a request for the computer. She didn't ask the question on her mind, but Jason answered it.

"Speech impediment," he grunted as Keyop pulled the computer closer to him and frowned much like a toddler declaring the toy in his hand was "mine". "He's had it all his life."

She pursed her lips as if to soundlessly say "oh", and looked back over her shoulder as Susan's phone rang. "Keep your fingers crossed that's Grissom telling her to ante up with the information."

The trio watched in silence as they listened to Susan converse with Grissom on the phone. Her reaction was obviously irritation as she let her gaze rest heavily on the female in the group.

"Yes, Dr. Grissom. I understand. I'll retrieve that information as soon as possible." She paused and kept her glare on Sara. "At least an hour." Another pause and she grunted her reply to what must have been a frustrated Gil Grissom. "Because that's how long it will take for the benefits administrator to return from lunch and retrieve the data you need."

Jason watched and curled a lip at the exchange. "Okay, so now she has the word and she's still going to drag her feet on it?"

Sara nodded and let out a long breath. "The myth that all Human Resource Managers are fluffy bubbles of cotton candy is absolutely false."

Jason purred a chuckle. "Especially when you try to date their daughter."

Sara coughed a laugh and shook her head as she contemplated what they could do for the hour. "You're really all that your reputation suggests aren't you?"

He smirked, but Keyop answered. "Always … Gets knocked back."

Jason's look darkened at the boy, but he said nothing in his own defence. Instead, he folded his arms across his chest and raised his head to look down his nose at the youngster. "So where are you taking the computer, anyway, kid?"

Keyop shrugged. "Mark said … Archie."

Jason looked toward Sara. "Archie's a guy?"

Sara nodded and let her tongue wet her top lip. "Yeah, the best damn computer and audio/visual genius on the planet."

"No," Keyop argued softly after a series of brips and broops. "Princess is."

Sara touched the young Swallow's shoulder. "Okay," she agreed, "he's second best."

Jason was still dark. "But Archie is a guy," he repeated. "I don't trust him, or anyone, to snoop through her hard drive."

Keyop tilted his head. "But I will be there, Jason."

He shook his head. "Yeah, and her identity will be out there in the open for him once he gets into that machine."

"But Mark said …"

"I don't care. I'm not risking him being …"

"Jason," Sara interrupted. "He's not a suspect."

"If he has a set hanging between his legs he is."

Sara rolled her eyes upward and stepped out of the doorway. She flicked her hand to ask them to follow. "Princess said the killer is white. Archie's Asian." She paused and offered the two of them a hard stare. "And he's someone I trust. If you want the best, then you're going to have to trust him, and me, with this."

Jason's brow arched in time with the devious curl of his mouth. "The Asian guy?" He gave a low chuckle. "Yeah. There are a few things I'd like to talk to him about."

Sara caught the glint of mischief in his tone and let her eyes fall to Keyop. "Is there something I need to know before I introduce these two?


	6. Chapter 6

One of the cursed things about the cerebronic implant was its painful ability to make one stay wide awake for up to a week before succumbing to any form of exhaustion. When one would normally collapse inside of a horrific event through fear and kill time with haunted sleep, the proud owner of a Federation implant would remain completely alert and conscious. The implant was specifically designed to aid the wearer in remaining completely lucid and energized in the middle of conflict.

Ordinarily this would be a welcome thing. In the midst of battle or confinement, where the knowledge of immediate rescue and resulting fight would most definitely require the captive to be alert, the implant was a Godsend. When off the battlefield, however, this gift was not so welcome.

She was mentally exhausted right now. All she felt she needed to clear her mind and formulate a decent escape plan was an hour's sleep. A clear mind; that's all she wanted; but with the swirling energies of fear and uncertainty keeping her implant active that wasn't going to happen.

The damn implant thrived on these emotions to keep it alight. This was like a recharge for the stupid thing…

She cursed at the implant designers as she lay relatively still on her back and blew bubbles of air out of her mouth through her top lip. Boredom made her play with the odd method of exhale and she concentrated mildly on staggering the actual part of her mouth the air audibly left her mouth.

So she was in a hotel. A hotel. That would make it more difficult for the team to find her with what limited information she was able to offer them. No doubt they'd be looking at actual residences for her if they did do a sweep of the LVPD staff databases. There would be no reason for them to think otherwise. Serial killers didn't use hotels for their crimes – well, not if they were actually holding their victims for any longer than perhaps a fast rape and murder.

Rape.

"Oh crap." She thought painfully. She'd forgotten about that part of the serial's M.O.

The thought made her green eyes flare wide. She'd have absolutely no course of action against such an attack. She was shackled in a spread-Eagle position with no chance to defend herself.

She felt a new wave of uncertainty and fear ripple through her chest and she found herself looking back up at the cuffs to see if she could maybe channel the strength of Tiny to rip apart the bed and free herself. For a brief moment she entertained the notion she might be able to. She closed her eyes, grit her teeth and sucked in a lungful of cool breath. Without exhaling she clenched her fists and slowly flexed her biceps to pull her arms down against the cuffs.

Her exhale came in the form of a long and low moan of agony as her wrists protested the pressure of cold metal against the flare of her hand off the wrist. That didn't stop her, however, from continuing to try and pull the headboard apart. It wasn't until she felt the sting of breaking skin that she stopped.

"Fuck!" she yelled in an uncharacteristic manner as she relaxed the pull and let the headboard smack heavily against the wall. "God damn it!"

The final words expelled more as a sob than speech. The pain of a new injury and the frustration of being held my a mere man drover her to loudly yank and pull at her arms. The chains scraped loudly against the painted aluminum, further driving her to struggle and yell for whatever deity might be willing to offer her a hand out of this.

After a long minute or so her struggling finally subsided, only to be replaced by wracking sobs that, while quieter than metal on metal, reverberated with more echo around the room. She could hear her own tears. They were tears of defeat.

All she could do was wail for Mark to please find her.

"You promised me we'd die together," she sobbed in the direction of her unlit communicator. "You promised."

A sound from beyond her room forced her sob to catch in her throat. Her alter ego stepped up to the plate as she widened her eyes and stared to one side to focus her hearing on what was beyond the door. Princess was momentarily cast aside as the Swan took control and ended her weeping for the time being.

"Who are you?" she whispered softly as she movement drew closer to the doorway to the bedroom.

The answer to her question arrived in the form of her captor carrying a large steel bowl of water and a towel opening the door with a smile.

"Good afternoon, Sarah. Did you sleep well while I was at work?"

Her bottom lip held off quivering as her eyes scanned his paraphernalia for anything that could be used as a weapon against her. "Why are you doing this?" she asked meekly as he set the bowl on the mattress beside her.

He tilted his head to look at her and blinked his eyes slowly as he smiled. "Do I really need to explain it to you again?"

She inhaled sharply as she watched him soak a washcloth in the water, then rub a piece of soap against it. "I've never done anything to you, Chris, why are you doing this?"

He let out a short breath in a laugh and ran the wet cloth up the length of her leg. "I told you. My name isn't Chris."

She shuddered at the sting of cold breeze on her wet skin. "Then what is your name?"

He continued to wash her legs, concentrating his gaze on the movements of the washcloth. "Call me whatever you want, Sarah."

She writhed uncomfortably against him. "And have you correct me when I get it wrong? This isn't a game of twenty questions."

He hummed and drew his finger along a deep scar on her belly. "Did you have a hard childhood, Sara?"

She frowned at the change in topic, and the personal nature of the questions he was asking. She sucked in her stomach to attempt to escape his touch. "If you won't tell me your name, then why should I indulge you with stories of my childhood?"

His eyes met hers. "When you're asked a question, it's impolite of you to not to answer."

"I did answer you," she snarled back, forgetting for a moment the position she was in. "How about you actually crawl out of your imaginary …."

Her words caught as she caught a flash of darkness in his eyes. Before she could formulate an apology his lip curled and his wrist flicked. The washcloth in his hand slapped heavily across her cheek. She gasped as he leapt up onto the bed and straddled her belly and gripped either side of the washcloth to stretch it out.

"You need to be taught some manners," he snarled as he pressed the stretched toweling fabric across her face, over her mouth and nose. "I'll discipline you until you learn to behave like a lady."

She gagged against the soapy material as it oozed white creamy lather into her nose and mouth. "Pl … ease," she choked as she struggled to find clean air to breathe. The sharp taste of the soap teased at her gag-reflex and she found herself fighting not only to breathe, but to not vomit.

He snarled at her as he finally released her face from the washcloth. "Does it hurt? Will it make you learn?" he demanded as his hands found her throat. He pressed his hands hard into her throat and practically purred as her face began to take on a magenta hue. She gagged and gasped for breath.

Then. As quickly as he launched his attack, it was over.

His lips dropped to the side of her soapy mouth as he slowly released her throat. "I need to get back to work, Sweetheart," he whispered lovingly as he smoothed her hair with both hands and looked into her terrified face. "I only told them I had to go and grab a sandwich. Fortunately the lab is only a couple of blocks from here, so I have a little time."

He seemed to fail to register the fact that she was wide-eyed, short breathed and shaking. He spoke as if she were his wife and he the man telling her about his day.

"We definitely got the Eagle's attention, Darling. He's absolutely frantic wondering where you are." He let go a laugh and actually slapped his knee as if what he was saying was a funny joke. "For a minute there I had to wonder if I'd managed to capture the attention of the Swan." She looked at her with a tilted head. "It took her so long to arrive at the lab that we were all wondering if that's who you were."

She blinked slowly. The Swan?

Mark must have called in Lola for support. God, she loved his tactical mind.

"So you're working alongside G-Force?" she asked meekly.

He gave her a wink. "The Commander approached me directly to work with him. I am his intelligence contact – well, that's how he termed it."

She swallowed hard. "Oh? And. Uh. What has he told you about the case?"

He pursed his lips and brushed stray suds off his shirt collar. "Nothing as yet. I'm sure he'll call me in to speak with me sooner rather than later. " He walked to her and sat on the mattress beside her. "And how brilliant. I will know I'm one step ahead of him all the way. How can I not be? I'm his go-to on this."

Now Princess' bottom lip gave a quiver. "Really?"

He twirled a few strands of her hair around his index finger. "Yes, Darling. Now I have to go back to work. We have a serial killer to catch."

"No. Don't go," she whispered, hoping to keep him as far from Mark and the new information as possible. "Stay."

He smiled down at her. "I have to go, but don't worry, I'll be home soon." He gave her a smile, then curled a lip and tugged the hair to pull out a small section. He gently shushed her as she yelped in pain.

"Sorry. But I need these."

~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~

Mark shuddered with an imaginary breeze as the first package of crime scene photos were emptied onto the table in front of him. One after another the images documented the horror that this young woman had suffered at the hands of her captor. Bruises, more pronounced in death than they would ever have been in life, were only the most minor of all injuries. The purple, red, and black discolourations were more than injuries, they were carbon copies of the entity that struck the area.

He dared not look beyond the bruising in fear he'd not be able to hold down the ham and Swiss sandwich he'd had for lunch. He was somewhat familiar with the extent of injuries of these girls; not through news casts or his beloved's gasps as she studied the case; but through the whispers of the staff inside the lab.

Honestly, he didn't want to know. He did not want to have any level of idea about what Princess might have to suffer through if they didn't find her in time.

Lola stood quietly beside him, wide-eyed and as horrified as he was pretending not to be. She drew a gloved finger along the jawline of one of the victims and let out a whimpering sigh.

"God, Mark. We have to find her."

He sniffed, more to find alertness than to hide emotion. "Dr. Grissom," he began as he slid his eyes across the table to where Grissom was opening up a floral fifties-style dress to lay on the table. "Is there anything I can do to help that doesn't include looking at photographs of dead women?"

"Finding objectiveness difficult, Commander?"

Mark blinked slowly and tilted his head to one side in challenge. "When the woman you love is at the mercy of a serial killer, I challenge you to remain completely objective."

Grissom raised his eyes to look over the rims of his glasses at the Eagle, but it was Catherine who spoke up. "Gil's wife, Sara," she said breathlessly without looking at Grissom for permission to share, "was the target of a serial killer a little over twelve months ago, Commander."

Mark shot a quick gaze to Grissom, who had begun o busy himself in evidence, then looked back at Catherine to wordlessly ask her to continue.

So she did. "It was a hell of a twenty four hours. Gil," she paused only long enough to look admiringly down her shoulder at him, "he went to hell and back trying first to prove he was able to stay on the case, and then viewing and reviewing evidence of brutal and horrific murders…"

"You have to detach yourself from the human element," Grissom muttered in interruption, somewhat irritated at Catherine spilling anything remotely personal about him. "Forget you're a boyfriend and that who you're looking at is the only person in your life who truly means something. Forget empathy and emotion – don't fight them – re-channel that energy into finding them. Find that small piece of evidence that tells you exactly where they're waiting for you." He smoothed out the fabric in front of him and passed a large magnifying glass over the top of it. "Cry when you find her, Commander. Don't waste tears on the search."

Catherine blinked and gave her head a small and quick shake of surprise. "Gil. Wow. That's pretty deep, especially for you."

He flicked a brow and raised his eyes to her. "Would you prefer I just say, "been there, done that"?"

Mark gaped somewhat at the man in front of him. "You know, Dr. Grissom. My second had pretty much that identical speech with me about an hour ago."

Grissom sighed and raised his head to the young man in front of him. "Commander. If you can't do this, then don't. Step away from the case and let us help her."

"No."

Grissom all but rolled his eyes. "If she was lost in the field of battle, what would you do?"

Lola smiled from her place in the room. "Can I answer that?"

Mark fixed her with a warning glare, which made her draw one side of her mouth down in a guilty grimace. "As you team are so adept at saying, Doctor, been there, done that. When she was sixteen, actually."

Catherine's eyes widened. "So young."

He smiled and blinked his eyes slowly. "But she's brilliant, Catherine."

"I don't doubt it."

"Which means," Grissom interrupted, "that we need to focus and bring her home."

Mark gave a firm nod and pressed both hands into the table surface to scan the images of the women and crime scenes. "If not just to find Princess, to make sure no other woman ends up like this … "

~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~

It had to have taken Sara, Jason and Keyop a good twenty minutes to make it to the computing lab. Along the way they'd encountered staff fans of the Condor and Swallow and had to pause for a handful of photos, autographs and mindless drivel. Adding to that, an exasperated Nick Stokes, Jim Brass and Greg Sanders had accosted Sara in the hallway. They pulled her into the men's washroom and barraged her with the who, what, and why's of the woman wearing the pink micro-mini and white wings who had suddenly appeared.

It was Greg who had initially offered up the suggestion to his fellow investigators that the Eagle had called in a replacement Swan. What other choice did the Commander have when he was given the suggestion that someone inside the department was the killer?

Sara merely confirmed that suspicion.

Once she had offered up her five-word confirmation as to who the new Swan was, which was made in such short time that it was unnecessary to have to inhale the toxic aroma that was the Men's, she'd bolted back out into the hallway – and into the arms of a waiting Condor.

His brow waggled when she collided with his chest in her hurry to escape the horror beyond the washroom door. "Accosted by three men, Sara? Do you need the Condor to swoop in, kick their asses and save your day?"

She painfully rolled her eyes at him and pulled backward, deliberately making sure to brush her lab-coat down as if wiping him off her. "Let's not and say we did."

He shrugged and rolled his eyes. "Can't say I'm not giving it my best shot."

"You should be focusing, Jason."

He grinned and tilted his head sideways so, although her was looking ahead of him as they walked, he was still regarding her politely. "Oh I'm focused."

"On your Swan, Jason. Not me." She had to walk into him to direct him toward the lab door. "As an FYI, I'm married."

Before he could respond, Archie's voice sounded from the desk. "You and Griss took the vows, Sara? When?"

She walked by him and dipped her mouth to his ear. She smiled when she answered. "That's our secret."

Archie groaned as he shifted the pink laptop in front of him and hooked it up to a large flat screen monitor on the wall in front of the desk. "I'm pretty sure I can find out," he muttered in his own defence.

"I'm sure you can," she sighed as she narrowed her eyes to look at the various desktop icons on the screen to her front. "Swallow, do you know what we're looking for?"

Keyop gave a broop and pulled up a seat beside Archie. "Need to … check email … folder."

Archie's head turned quickly to Keyop in surprise at his stilted way of speaking but respectfully remained quiet on the subject. Instead he turned to business. "How do you know what we're looking for, Swallow?"

Keyop pursed his lips. "Um. Computer … genius."

"The kid's almost as good as Princess," Jason inserted in an obvious attempt at a save.

Archie didn't buy it. "Then why is he here and not your Swan?"

"She's with the Skipper." He caught a clearing of a throat from the Asian male and narrowed his eyes at him. "The Swan and Eagle always work together."

"Uh-huh." He tapped at the computer and kept his attention on the laptop monitor rather than the large TV-style screen on the wall. "This girl, she's Federation, right?"

Jason gave a short nod. "Yeah. She works with us."

"In wings by any chance," he tried as he scrolled through the email inbox past a myriad of messages from each of the birds, as well as President Kane and Chief Anderson.

Jason growled low and unimpressed. "Just look for what you're supposed to, okay?" He set his sight on Keyop, who was actually smiling at Archie in a manner to suggest he was going to enjoy working with him. "Keyop, you wanna take over and show him what he's actually looking for?"

Keyop pursed his lips and blew out a small breath of air. "I don't … know exactly what … myself."

Sara gripped lightly at the back rest of Archie's chair. "She said there was a hidden folder somewhere in her email. Apparently there are a few messages she's saved from this guy."

Archie didn't look up, but he opened explorer and began to click through the pathways to the destination suggested. "But none of you have spoken to her since she was taken, how would you know?"

"The Commander's got ESP," Jason growled low.

Sara angled her head enough that she looked up at Jason, "do you honestly think he's not going to work it out, Jason? He's got her personal laptop there."

The Condor curled a disgruntled lip and slid his eyes up to the doorway, where he could see the silhouette of Mark and Grissom working through some piece of evidence on their table. "Tell anyone, man, and I'll rip 'em off."

Archie smirked to one side and clicked the cursor of the mouse over a folder icon that said, simply, "Chris". Immediately a dialogue box popped up asking for a password.

"This might take a while," Archie ventured as he began to attempt a couple of random words.

Keyop gave a broop and cradled his fingers to outstretch his arms and crack his knuckles. "Time for … Mighty Swallow … magic." Inside of ten seconds, the Swallow had unlocked the folder and slid the laptop back across to Archie.

Jason flicked a brow. "What was the password?"

"Won't tell," Keyop answered with a wink.

"Same as her diary?" He ventured.

Keyop pursed his lips into a narrow "O" shape and chuckled through it. But before he could answer one way or another, he was interrupted by a horrified gasp from Sara.

"Oh good God. Why didn't she tell anyone?"

~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~

The photos were getting them nowhere. The evidence Grissom seemed intent on making them go through was offering them much of the same. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Well. Nothing except giving a rise of bile in his throat that threatened to expel in a volcanic manner if he had to look at one more bloody photograph.

Lola hadn't lasted nearly as long as he had before she thrust her head in to the closest receptacle and retched. Catherine had settled the shaking and green faux-Swan with a Styrofoam cup of cold water and a chair.

He watched Lola with concern via a sideways glance as he tapped his fingertips on the layout table. He watched her take a couple of deep breaths and shake her head at Catherine's offer to take her outside and finally looked across at Grissom, who was jotting down information onto his clipboard as he analyzed a text message on his cell-phone.

"We're getting nowhere," he moaned.

Grissom's lip twitched on one side, but he didn't take his attention from the clipboard. "All it takes is one piece of evidence, Commander."

"But we've been looking through this evidence for over an hour, now. We've found nothing new."

Grissom finally raised his eyes to Mark. "Feel free to check in on your other team members, Commander. Perhaps you can gather them together and formulate a game plan of sorts for the remainder of this investigation." He looked back down at his phone with pursed lips. "Take a break, step outside, leave it to us."

Mark's head tilted to one side. He knew dismissal when he heard it – God knows Anderson pulled it on him enough times – and that meant only one thing: Grissom likely had found something he wasn't willing to share just yet. His eyes narrowed a pinch. "I … just might do that," he said softly.

Grissom gave a firm nod and rose from his stool. He seemed focused as he walked to the doorway and paused just outside the room. "Page me if you need me, Catherine." He glanced across at Mark. "Commander, if you need me have Catherine page me. There's something I need to do."

Mark's gaze steeled on the criminalist in a manner to accuse him of mistrust, but he voiced nothing of that nature. Instead he gave a short nod. "Will you be long, Doctor Grissom."

The tone was full of mistrust and accusation, but Grissom internally shook it off. "The timing for the call of nature varies. You may join me if you feel it necessary."

Mark snorted. The lie was a good one, he surmised, but a lie none-the-less. He forced a smirk and shook his head as he heard Catherine groan her displeasure at being given too much information. "I'm sure that is something you can manage on your own, Doctor."

Grissom held back a roll of the eyes and said nothing as he turned in the direction of the men's washroom. He had a vague impression that he was being watched and, rather than be seen requesting Sara follow him, he dropped his attention to his cell-phone to send a text message.

Mark watched the man closely as he awkwardly walked and typed at the same time. As Grissom turned a corner out of sight, he heard a shrill beep that snapped his attention to the AV lab. Sara appeared to snarl as she pulled her cell phone from her belt to read the message. She paused, gasped and raised her head to the door … Then hurriedly excused herself and in a fast walk down the same corridor as the Entomologist.

"What have you got, Doctor Grissom?" he muttered under his breath.

Catherine's voice stole him from his focus. "What was that, Mark?"

He turned his face, but not his eyes to her. "Oh, nothing, Catherine."

She pouted and shrugged her shoulders. "Okay."

David Hodges, the man Mark had earlier recruited to help him with internal information, walked past the office. He held a brown paper with what must have been a deli lunch in it, and was actually … smiling. Not finding it particularly unusual considering he'd met the man only once, Mark let out a shrill whistle and stepped into the hallway behind him.

Hodges spun on the ball of his foot and let a sly grin spread across his face as he took a handful of steps toward the Eagle. "Yes, Commander?"

"Call me Mark," he responded quietly as he flicked his fingers to ask Hodges to follow him. "I need your help."

Hodges allowed himself a moment to scan the hallways suspiciously and lowered his head in a covert manner. "What do you need, Mark?"

Mark began with a fishing question. "How trusted by Grissom with sensitive information are you?"

He smirked and let his head tilt back in a self appreciating manner. "Moreso than his wife."

"Good," he breathed in more of a whisper than in voice. "He's withholding information. I want to know what."

"What kind of information?" Hodges questioned with a frown.

"If I knew that," he answered shortly, "I wouldn't be asking for your help."

"I understand."

"I assume the rumour and whisper mill is as effective and wide-reaching as the one we have at Centre Neptune. Please put your ear to the ground and find out what you can."

He nodded in acceptance of he Eagle's orders. "Where is Grissom now?"

He tipped a shoulder in a shrug and flicked his eyes up to the end of the corridor. "He walked in that direction, supposedly to the men's …"

"The men's is in the opposite direction," he interrupted with a raised brow.

Mark took a deep breath. "I thought as much."

"He went alone I take it?"

"Not exactly. He was texting Sara as he left the exam room. She took off pretty quickly …"

"Which means they're together," he interrupted again, eager to show allegiance by being able to finish the Eagle's sentences.

"That's my thinking."

He rubbed thoughtfully at his chin. "They could be pretty much anywhere in the building."

"Are you too busy to find them?"

Hodges adopted a salacious grin. "I'll find out all of the information they have, Mark."

"I appreciate it."

"How will I find you?"

Mark pursed his lips and flicked open his wings to pull a small communications device from his belt pocket. "This will link to my bracelet. Whatever you find, I want to know."

Hodges gave a nod. "Will do, Commander."

Mark pursed his lips and stared down the corridor. He let his eyes flick to the AV room, where he could see Jason and Keyop looking almost horrified at whatever they'd found on Princess' hard drive. He turned his head to offer Hodges a last look. "I'm trusting you to supply me with the information I need to find this woman alive, and unharmed…." He took a breath and curled a lip. "And to have this killer punished for his crimes."

Hodges swallowed hard and gave a minute tilt of the head. "G-Force justice, I take it?"

"Yes," Mark answered firmly.

"Who is this girl," he questioned curiously, "to have you so desperate to find her?"

Mark didn't register the slightest bit of panic in his voice. He replied low and steady without thinking. "Someone very close to me, David.' He flicked his eyes at him and took a single step toward the AV room. "And I want her back alive."

Hodges blinked in a start and all but gagged in response. "No wonder you're all here …"

Mark ignored the comment, his attention and focus now elsewhere. "Find that information for me, David. Tell me the instant you hear anything."

Hodges watched as Mark slowly stalked toward the AV room and finally let out a sharp breath. He let his gaze fall on the girl wearing the Swan uniform and watched as she maintained a girlishly innocent stance while letting her yo-yo roll up and down its string. There was no doubt in his mind as he watched that the woman was the true Swan. The thought allowed him to release a held breath of relief.

The Swan he would never harm, or wish harm upon. She was a legitimate lady … one who needed a longer skirt, but a lady none-the-less.

He switched his gaze at Mark and let a dangerous smile kiss at the air.

"Yes, Mark. You'll have the information – as soon as I plant it."

~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~

Sara Sidle, out of breath and switching her emotions between disgust, horror, empathy and curiosity, quickly rounded the corner toward the garage. Grissom's page had been short and … sweet?

"_Garage, now. Need you. G"_

While she knew the message had absolutely no personal meaning to them at all, she allowed herself a brief nano-second to entertain the fantasy that he had something sordid in mind. Her fantasy was short lived, however, as she double-palmed the garage doors open and practically burst inside the room.

She frowned when she saw him; he was pacing.

Grissom wasn't a pacing kind of person. He'd much rather find calm inside a report or with his bugs and evidence than chew his nails and pace the room and expend energies that could otherwise be used to find a killer.

She was immediately alarmed and gently stopped his pacing by touching him on the upper arm.

"Gris? You okay?"

He wiped his hand down his face and offered her a tired look in response. "Only one hit from Benefits, Sara."

Her eyes widened and she found herself dipping her head to force herself to look up at him curiously. "And? Who is it?"

"Chris Weston," he sighed long. "His last claim was only a month ago."

She frowned and angled her head doubtfully. "No. That doesn't sound …." She suddenly inhaled hard and actually found herself bringing her hands to her mouth in shock. "God. Grissom. The sender of the emails was someone calling himself Chris."

Grissom grunted and tapped his finger on his clipboard. "He is also on our list of potentials."

"He's got scratches on his neck …"

"And he's a Trek fan."

She frowned and folded her arms against her chest. "I don't know, Grissom. This seems a little too easy, don't you think?"

"2 years is not an easy case, Sara," he countered gruffly.

She pursed her lips. "You know what I mean. Chris just doesn't seem the type … and he certainly isn't capable of overpowering the Swan."

"Ted Bundy," he reminded her knowing he didn't need to elaborate further. When he watched her roll her eyes in agreement, he spoke again. "I'm going to need you to team with Nick and Warrick to go through his history as closely as possible. Get hold of Jim and arrange an interrogation with Chris…"

She raised her hand to stop him speaking. "Grissom." She sighed hard. "Shouldn't you and Catherine be arranging this?"

His eyes steeled on her, their hardening being the equivalent of he shaking his head at her. "Not with G-Force here. Those kids want blood and reputation suggests they'll shoot first ask later."

"Not the Eagle," she offered gently. "He'll keep them all down."

Grissom fell silent for a short moment. He looked into her, took a breath and then squinted his eyes just a little as his gaze softened. "No, Sara," he corrected as he raised his hand to cup her face. "He won't, he can't … And I don't blame him."

She lightly leaned into his touch, but said nothing in favour of letting his continue.

"Sara. When the person you love most is at the mercy of someone like that, rational thought goes out of the window." He stroked her face with his thumb. "I know. I've been there … and I don't blame him."

"Gil," she sighed softly as she reluctantly removed his hand from her face. "We aren't going to be able to keep this from him, you know that."

"For as long as we can," he asked on a breath. He then took a cautionary look around and stepped a single step back from her in an attempt to gain a more commanding position. "I want to make sure we have the right person before they find out about it. Our entire investigation and any chance we have of making absolute sure we've got the perp will be lost the minute he finds out we have a prime suspect."

"Try the second he knows," she sighed in response as she rubbed at her brows.

"I can keep him in the dark for at least another twelve hours. You and the team will need to work fast and quietly."

"What about the Condor and Swallow?"

"Leave them with Archie. There's no doubt a lot if information to analyse in that computer."

Her head tilted in time with her face creasing in a grimace. "God. You should see what we found in there, Griss. I don't understand how she didn't perceive a threat."

"Hindsight's 20/20, Sara."

A well manicured brow flicked upward. "Wait until you see it."

"I'll send the Eagle in there, then."

She gasped. "No. Don't. Don't let him anywhere near it, Griss. If you think he's be uncontrollable with his current knowledge … once he sees that …" she blew air out of her mouth through pursed lips. "Not a great idea."

He nodded. "I'll return to the lab, then. Keep me updated with any and all new evidence you turn up."

"Will do."

Without saying anything further, Grissom turned on his heel and walked out of the garage, leaving Sara alone to begin to rally the players to the game.

~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~

From beside the emergency exit door, Hodges watched with a darkened glare at Sara as she began the first of her calls to the rest of the team. His lip gave a slight twitch of annoyance that he'd not receive the credit for his work. But his study and his tenacity had been worth it. He'd flawlessly framed the young man for his crime.

Perfect payback for the "dude, you got punked" act Chris pulled on him some while back by pulling down his pants in the main corridor of the LVPD.

With a smile that lifted his lip only high enough to show the lowest part of his front teeth, he brought the small communicator to his mouth and cleared his throat.

"Commander. About your request for information … This is what I found out."


	7. Chapter 7

Mark was silently standing at the door to the AV room, having being stalled by a ghost-faced Jason from entering, when Grissom came wandering back around the corner. Grissom made an obvious shift of his belt when he saw Mark, but gave no other real reaction to seeing the raised brow questioning look of the G-Force Commander.

It was Mark who made the first move to entice a conversation.

"Doctor, did you lose your way?"

Grissom fixed him with a curious stare. "Excuse me?"

Mark thumbed over his shoulder. "I thought the washroom were that a way?"

"Oh," Grissom muttered with a flush of red creeping up his neck. "We have several in this building. I prefer a more private venue than the main facility."

"I see."

In an attempt to sway the topic from washroom habits, Grissom pointed a finger toward his office. "If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to ask you a couple of questions concerning Sarah's attack previous to her abduction."

Mark's brow flicked. "That will help?"

Grissom walked past him and headed toward his office. "Anything helps, Commander."

Mark was quick to agree, thankful that there seemed to be something new to work through. "Of course. But I am unsure I have much to offer you beyond a date."

"It's better than nothing."

As Mark fell into step behind him, his wrist tingled with an incoming transmission. The fact that there was no familiar chime to the notification meant that it was a message from his LVPD informant. He paused and waved for Grissom to continue into the office without him. "Doctor. This is a communication from our forensics team, I will be with you in a short moment."

Grissom offered a short nod and left Mark alone in the corridor. When he was sure he was alone, he raised his wrist to his lips. "Go ahead, David."

Hodges responded as if he was leaving a message on an answering machine. "Commander. About your request for information … This is what I found out." He took a breath. "Grissom received the results from the benefits search and had only one hit. You're familiar with him. It's Chris Weston. He's working in Trace under me right now."

Mark's eyes ticked but his only response was a grunt.

So Hodges continued. "He asked Sara to rally the team to play covert ops behind your back. Brass and Sara, I guess, will be calling him in for interrogation. Nick and Warrick will be doing background checks. Grissom intends to blackball you for as long as possible."

Mark cleared his throat in irritation and let his gaze shift to the open door of Grissom's office. "What else do they have on him right now?"

"He fits all the criteria, Commander. Grissom wouldn't go ahead if he didn't have enough to warrant a discussion."

Mark narrowed his eyes and grunted. "Thank you, David. I appreciate your help."

"Any time Commander. I want you to find your girl as much as you do."

The Eagle commander dropped his hand to his hip and took a deep breath in contemplation. He was sorely tempted to turn tail and bolt toward the trace lab to accost and physically interrogate this Chris fellow, but found pause only because of Grissom's hesitation in sharing the information. Princess had specifically asked that he trust the Entomologist, and as much as the urge to practice Eagle justice on a potential suspect, he had to trust Princess' instinct about the man.

He slowly, painfully raised his communicator to his lips. "G-1 to G-2 Jase?"

"Ears on, Skipper."

Mark took a deep, cleansing – well it would have been cleansing if he weren't in the LVPD crime lab where one of the employees was an unfound killer – breath. "Jason I need you to do something for me."

Jason sounded leery when he responded. "Yeah, okay, what?"

"Do you remember the Star Trek fan from earlier? The one you said you'd prefer to work with on this?"

"I said I'd have preferred him as a go to rather than the creepy guy you chose," he corrected flatly.

Mark let out a short breath of a chuckle. "Semantics. Look, I want you to spend the next hour or so attached to his hip."

Jason's tone took on a low rumble. "Any particular reason why, Skip?"

"Working a hunch, Jase."

"I can take him outside if you want."

Mark raised his eyes to look at the Condor standing only a handful of metres away from him. It was easy for him to note the sudden shift in stature to the hulking and predatory Condor. He gave his second a shake of the head. "No, Jason. I just want you to work with him a while."

"You know something, don't you?"

Mark shook his head slowly. "No more than you, Jase. Just call it one of my … ESP moments."

"Which are accurate more often than not."

"Play nice, okay?"

"Whatever."

"I mean it, Jason. I don't want people thrown through windows, pissing their pants, bleeding, of swearing allegiance to whatever deity you force them. You just have to work with him, that's all."

"Whatever."

"Oh, and Jase?"

"Yeah?"

Mark's voice dropped an octave. "If any of the investigators try to take him away, question him, take him to lunch, I want you with."

"How much of a hunch is this, Mark?"

"I'm really not completely sure, Jase. Let's just say it's reliable, but not completely confirmed."

"You'll tell me …" he took a deep breath and took on a dangerous tone "…if and when the confirmation is made, right?"

"You'll be the second to know."

Jason didn't respond verbally, instead he gave his Commander a slow blink of blue/grey eyes. He then turned and slowly stalked his way down the hallway toward where he believed Trace might be.

Mark let out a long breath as he watched the back of his second's wings disappear down the corridor. He thumbed at his nose and clicked air in through his teeth as he peered toward Grissom's office door.

Perhaps Grissom was prepared to share?

~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~

One thing about the G-Force Condor was that his perception and memory retention were fairly second to none. He was so good, in fact, that he boasted he could detect the subtle shift in the air from a gnat's fart, upwind, across the country, with toilet paper up his nose. True, he could feel the shudder in a terrified man's body from across the street as he lined him up in a sniper scope. He could scan, memorize and analyse every exit point so that when the shit hit the fan, he'd have an easy exit.

…But a gnat's fart?

These were all skills necessary not only in battle, but essential after a long night with his friend Jack Daniels when he awoke in beds belonging to mysterious blonde women when their _significant Others_ arrived home.

He had no real desire to announce his new mission parameter to anyone outside the team. So when he'd disappeared from the Audio lab he needed to find his way there, no deviation, and no explanation. Investigators seemed to want far too much information when asked a simple question and he had no desire to waste time explaining anything. When Sara had led he and Keyop toward the Audio room, he'd scanned every inch of the hallway and each separate room, including lab monkeys, just in case something interesting cropped up.

If these guys wanted to hide information, he'd do his best to do the same.

Fuck 'em. Princess' life was at stake, and them wasting time was not going to help her.

The target for this mission was Chris. He probably appeared younger than he truly was. His hair was a sandy-blonde, and at a length that was obviously between his standard cut time. To mask the regrowth, he'd plastered some form of gel or wax on it to style it into something that may have been stylish, but looked bloody awful. It was set with lopsided spikes that could be equated only to a shower Mohawk that was weighed down with water and suds. Jason figured that the style was probably rock-hard and immoveable.

Chris wore an over-worn lab coat that was a rainbow of colours from various chemical stainings. The smell of the coat was a heavy combination of all chemicals, with the most overbearing appearing to be ammonia, or something else as toxic. His safety glasses had to be at least two times too big for him, but were styled in the latest fashion that were probably specifically designed with prescription lenses and were, therefore, his and his alone.

A Geek, Jason surmised as he leaned a shoulder against the door and let his eyes fall onto a small, but highly expensive, CD player beside his scope. A try-hard fashion wannabee, which reeked of coke bottle bottom glasses, A-student, ink stain in the pocket geek.

The kind Jason would have beaten on a regular basis – had he ever actually attended a proper high school.

His ears twitched at the unmistakable voice and beat of Talking Heads and for a moment, he paused to try and pick the song – and almost laughed when he caught the target of his mission singing along.

Psycho Killer.

How bloody appropriate.

"_You start a conversation you can't even finish it.  
You're talkin' a lot, but you're not sayin' anything.  
When I have nothing to say, my lips are sealed.  
Say something once, why say it again?"_

Jason's brow flicked upward. With a smirk that would have immediately alerted any member of his team that he was about to scare the living shit out of someone, he slid silently into the room.

Chris, oblivious to the stealthy Condor's approach, continued to sing along with the music.

"_Psycho Killer …"_

Jason leaned his mouth down toward Chris' ear and smirked as he smoothly breathed the next line.

"_Qu'est-ce que c'est?" A.N. Translation into English "What is that?"_

With the hot and dangerous voice in his ear, Chris jumped. His surprise was such that the test tube of clear liquid and micropipette in his hand shot skywards. He stumbled and yelped like a wounded dog as he attempted to prevent both crashing onto the table or floor.

"Hodges," he spat venomously, "I swear to God I am going to kick your ass if you don't stop…" His words caught in his throat when he turned to find the condor smirking devilishly behind him. "What the fu…?"

"Psycho Killer?" he asked smoothly. "That's a fairly ominous tune for your profession."

"Criminal Mind," Chris corrected as he attempted to wipe a new stain off his lab coat, "would be a more questionable song."

Jason smirked and folded his arms across his chest and leaned his back against the doorframe. "Never was a Gowan fan."

"No," Chris snorted as he turned his back to Jason in order to attempt to save any part of his sample. "I'd expect you to be more of a Nine Inch Nails or Metallica fan."

Jason shrugged. "Zepplin, actually, when Princess is strumming along to 'em."

Chris let his eyes slide across to Jason. "The Swan plays?"

"Yep. She's a hell of a guitar player. Plays electric with a band at Jill's on Fridays." He smirked. "But she does it best on acoustic."

Chris smirked. "Well we've got a couple in the evidence locker from the slaying at the Battle of the Bands night a few weeks back, maybe I can pull one out for her to give us a demo."

"When this investigation is over and done with, maybe she can play at your trial … or funeral. Depends on how friendly the Commander is feeling when we find the girl as to the location."

Chris gagged and dropped the test tube onto the table. He spun on his heel and pressed his rump hard into the desk to attempt to pull as far back from the Condor as far as possible. "What did you just say?"

Jason did little more than shrug nonchalantly. "You fit the bill, man."

"I don't fucking think so."

Jason peeled himself from the doorway and took a handful of slow steps forward. "Let's see. A Star Trek game player, geek, computer genius."

"Hey hey," Chris interrupted with a wave of his hand. "You're describing about seven million different people there, Condor. In this lab alone there are five of us who are exactly the same." He pointed in the direction of Archie's lab. "Hell, the biggest Trek geek we have is Archie …"

"But he's Asian," Jason purred.

"So, what. You're a racist?"

Jason sniffed hard and licked his lips at the taste in the air of a terrified individual. "New intel, genius. The guy's white."

"Oh, and I automatically come up a suspect because of my race? Oh that is a new one. You're pinning this on me because I'm white."

Jason snorted and let his eyes fall on the set of scratches on his neck. "How'd you get those scratches again?"

Chris subconsciously raised his hand to the sore spot on his neck. "Uh. Role-playing game with my Star Trek buddies."

Jason's eyes narrowed as he saw Chris' wrists, and the healing skin of a serious irritation. Recalling the conversation held in the lab with Mark and Grissom's team, he let out a long snort and then drove himself at the hapless lab technician.

"Where is she asshole?" he demanded as he shoved him backward onto test tubes, papers, microscope and an expensive Mass Spectrometer machine. His forearm held Chris down tightly at his throat as Jason pulled his weapon from its holster and jammed the muzzle up underneath Chris' chin. "Tell me or I blow your fucking head off!"

Chris gagged in shock, fear and confusion as his back protested every part of the Condor's attack. He couldn't bring himself to claw at the weapon or the forearm at his throat to free himself. He made do with clutching vainly at the papers below his rump. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Jason growled low and shifted his arm to clutch a handful of Chris' shirt. The gun remained held under his chin. "Don't feed me that innocent shit, asshole. You know exactly what I'm talking about. Now where is she?"

Now Chris decided to attempt to peel himself free of the Condor's death-grip. He grabbed at his hands to try and pull himself free. "I am not the one you're looking for, Condor. Believe me I have nothing to do with this."

Jason grunted and hauled Chris up off the table. With no more than a hard flick of his wrist, he tossed the young man at the wall, immediately following through by rushing behind him to press him face-first into the wall. "I'm not one to play games. You tell me where the hell to find her or I smear your face across this lab and …."

"It's not me," he moaned pitifully in his own defence. "Dammit. I have an alibi for that night."

Jason leaned his mouth close to Chris' ear. "Yeah. And I have alibis for every time Anderson's credit card goes missing. They're easy to buy, Chris."

Chris grunted painfully at Jason shoving him harder against the wall. "I'm not capable of doing that, Jason. You have to believe me."

Jason didn't, of course, and took a fistful of Chris' labcoat. He growled a low, predatory, growl as he spun and threw his victim toward the glass wall – right into the chest of the Eagle.

Mark caught the terrified man by his shoulders and steadied him a moment before seizing the Condor in a cold, icy glare. "Jason," he breathed calmly. "Was there an error in my transmission?"

Chris frantically pulled himself away from Mark and staggered toward Grissom, who was calmly, yet disgustedly, standing at the doorway beside Nick and Warrick. "They're fucking nuts," he declared as he rubbed at his upper arms and tried to hide behind Nick. "He just attacked."

Jason, catching the movement of his prey out of the corner of his eyes, kept his main focus on his Commander. "I made an executive change in your order, Mark."

Mark's head ticked slightly to one side in irritation. "I said shadow, Condor, not attack."

"I have a different way of shadowing."

"You blew my order, Jason." Mark commanded softly, evenly. "I gave you a direct order, with specific instructions."

Jason's eyes narrowed. Oh, he was so ready for a pissing contest.

"And as usual, your orders bordered on pussy, so I upgraded them to something a little more masculine."

Mark swallowed. He knew a challenge from his second when he saw it. Instead of playing along, he turned and spoke down his shoulder at him. "We'll discuss this later."

"No," Jason demanded hotly. "We'll discuss this now. I'm not pussy-footing around when Princess is missing. If this asshole knows where she is, I don't want to waste time." He lowered his head to speak through brows at his Commander. "And you shouldn't be either. " He pulled in a breath. "Stop playing by their rules, Mark. She's already had to suffer through hell because of other's rules, save her by using ours."

Mark froze on the spot. That was a low hit. He was fully aware of the reference in that comment. He took a long breath and let his eyes flick up to Anderson, who had by now decided to join the investigative party. "She and I are over the flowers, Jason. Now's the time for you to do the same. If she can accept it, you should too."

"She only accepted it because it was you, Mark. Jesus. Everything she does is because of you." He stalked up and firmly grabbed hold of the Commander's shoulder to turn him to face her. "This whole mess is your damn fault. If you hadn't pushed her away all those years, slept around the Rangers unit, and blamed duty and the Chief for you not acting on your desires, she'd never have gone out with this guy. She wouldn't have tried the Facebook dating scene and been attacked by him. She would be home, safe with us, and …"

"And another woman would have been taken," Mark snapped finally. "Can't you get it in your mind that this is the best scenario. This is exactly what Princess would have wanted."

"And you honestly believe that?"

"No," he growled. "But it's all I've got right now." He pointed at the doorway as if to accent his words. "The woman I love is out there, we've got practically nothing to work on. I've had to pour through photos and coroner's reports and any other piece of "let's waste his time" bullshit from these investigators. I've got nothing. I'm no closer to finding her than I was with those damn flowers. All I can actually get out of any of this is that she is the only woman on this earth who would be capable of surviving this." His voice calmed somewhat; although it was obvious he was fighting off emotion. "But just like those flowers; when we find her … alive … she's going to walk out of this stronger with the knowledge she saved innocent lives by going through this ordeal."

Jason coughed. "That is the biggest load of shit I've ever heard come out of your mouth, Skipper, and that's saying something considering I'm constantly having to listen to your crap."

"Feel free to leave, Jason."

Jason's body hunched into a predatory stance. "I'll consider that offer after we find her."

"Then in the meantime, you're grounded."

Jason's head ticked. "What?"

Mark wasn't swayed. "You're off this mission. "

"Like hell I am."

Mark's lip twitched. "That's my order, Jason. And this time you're going to listen. As of now you are not only on report, but you're off this investigation. Take your vengeful ass back to Neptune until further notice."

"You don't have the authority …"

"Yeah, actually I do, Jason. " Mark spat with an almost-laugh. "I'm code G-1, as in the leader, the commander of this damn unit. What I say goes …."

"That's enough!" Anderson finally boomed from the doorway beside Grissom, who looked thankful that someone had the balls to finally step in. He stepped into the room and in between the two warring raptors. His finger first pointed at the Condor. "Jason, take a break. I hear the roof is the most popular smoking area." He then pointed at the Eagle. "Mark. You get a hold on yourself. You're Commander for Christ's sake. Show a little more control."

Jason snorted in extreme displeasure and stalked past Mark, deliberately knocking his shoulders against Mark's in a defiant and attacking manner. "To be continued …"

Mark curled a lip. "Count on it."

"I said that's enough you two," Anderson reaffirmed. "Now that the two of you have successfully announced to the whole lab that Princess is the victim here our time-frame has been cut in half. She is in far more danger now because the two of you can't put off your pissing contest long enough to get the job done."

"He started it," Mark muttered in a manner so juvenile it barely belonged in the schoolyard.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," Anderson hissed by way of response. "I now estimate that the press will hear about this in exactly five minutes. Zoltar will come barreling down the street thirty seconds after that." He threw a manila folder into Mark's chest. "I'm pretty sure Princess and the people of Las Vegas will thank you for that."

Mark let out a long and disappointed breath as he rubbed at his brow with his forefinger and thumb. "This is not our style of play, Chief. I'm not used to, nor do I appreciate, this game of withholding information. I should not have to resort to gaining information from a lab informant to keep on top of this investigation."

Grissom cleared his throat from the doorway. "Who on my team is acting as your mole, Commander?"

Mark's focus flicked to Grissom. He looked down his shoulder at him with a lowered head. "Tell me what I need to know, Doctor, and I'll share my information with you."

"By the looks of things, Commander, you already know what I do."

Mark rolled his eyes and let his gaze pass each of the investigators. His eyes fell on Chris, who was still cringing behind Nick. "Mr. Weston. I apologise on behalf of my unit for my Second's behaviour. I will see that his actions are reprimanded as per the G-Force code. It was unnecessary."

"Uh. Yeah …" He managed.

Mark took a deep breath and rolled his head to one side as his eyes closed. "Let him go, Dr. Grissom. Your investigation has led you to the wrong man."

Grissom frowned and turned his head in such a manner that he was left to regard Mark with a side glance. "He fits the profile and, according to the evidence, is our prime suspect."

"Except for one thing, Doctor Grissom."

Grissom actually allowed himself the movement to look squarely at Mark. "What's that?"

"He's as young as I am. Princess stated that her attacker was middle-aged." He shrugged. "I'd bet my jet, my shack, my life, that Chris is innocent."

"I still have to process him, Commander."

"You'll be wasting time."

Grissom pressed his lips tightly together and let out a sound from the back of his throat. He finally offered the Commander a nod. "Unless you have a better plan …"

"I don't."

"Then we're running with this for now." He looked apologetically at Chris. "I have little other choice."

Chris nodded knowingly. "I understand Grissom. Let me clear myself."

Mark watched through slitted eyed as they walked out of the room leaving only he and Anderson in silence. He felt the Security Chief formulating a long winded lecture in his mind and waved a dismissive hand at him. "Don't bother, I won't listen to it anyway," he muttered. "I'm going to play a hunch."

"Which is?"

Mark lifted the handset of the lab phone and quickly dialed an outside number. Within a handful of seconds the other end picked up.

"Hi Jill. It's Mark. Do you have enough hands there right now to help out a wounded bird?"

~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~

"_You aren't going to believe this. The girl that's missing is the Swan."_

"_No, it can't be. She's here."_

"_Seriously, she must be a body-double or something. I heard the Eagle and Condor arguing about it – shit, I think the whole lab must have heard them"_

"_Holy shit. No wonder the G-Force team are so desperate to be part of this investigation."_

"_Yeah, typical. They're only here because one of theirs is missing. Where were they when …"_

"_Uh, out saving the world."_

"_This is huge."_

"_Tell me about it. The Condor thinks that Chris from Trace did it. Grissom's processing him now."_

"_Ha. Ha. Oh shit, that must have been a scene…"_

Hodges' eyes twitched at the incessant rumours now circulating through the lab. The Swan? The Swan was the one missing … the one he held captive?

He shuddered at the revelation.

Now he had to find escape. He had to fix this problem.

But she knew who he was, what he looked like.

She had to die.

DAMN!


	8. Chapter 8

Jill threw herself at the unsuspecting male she'd called out shamelessly to. She kissed both his reddening cheeks and held him tightly around his neck.

"David!" She gushed. "Thank you so much for fixing my computer yesterday. I was so panicked I'd have to give it to Keyop, who would ferret through the hard drive for incriminating things."

David Hodges dipped his head in a vain attempt to hide himself and pulled away from her. "Uh. Yeah, no problems, Jill."

She watched as Mark and Grissom passed the hallway only a handful of metres away from them and gave the G-Force Commander a girlish wave of the fingers. "Good luck, Mark."

Mark gave her a nod, let his eyes fall distractedly onto Hodges, and refocused on the discussion with Grissom.

Hodges uncomfortably cleared his throat and seemed to shuffle between feet. "You spoke with the Eagle?"

"Yeah," she sighed. "I'm worried about him, about Princess."

"The Swan?" he affirmed.

She nodded without thinking. "Oh, yes. He's a wreck when she vanishes like this. I remember the flowers," she brought her hand to her mouth in remembrance. "That was just awful. He went through such hell thinking she was dead, then blaming himself, then knowing she was alive but didn't know how to find her." She turned her face to Hodges. "That was before they were a couple. He and she were still dancing some deranged mambo, he denying her because of duty, the fact that intra team affairs were forbidden." A smile spread across her face. "But, wow. When he finally said to hell with the rules and took her as his own – he gave himself completely to her." She swooned. "I'm actually jealous."

Hodges cleared his throat. "So. You know them all personally?"

She nodded. "Yes, of course. I'm helping them out as best I can. I have to come back a little later, I suppose, to talk more about this Chris guy who attacked her …" she frowned "the monster."

Hodges blinked. "If she wasn't so provocative …" he let the sentence linger unfinished.

This alarmed Jill, immediately. She tilted her head and frowned at him. "Davie?"

"You … you didn't give them your computer, did you?"

She nodded. "Yes. I'm the only user, though, so it'll be …" she inhaled sharply. "Oh I should tell them that you used it yesterday. They should know about that."

He quickly shook his head. "No, Jill. That's unnecessary."

"But?"

"Really. It won't help the investigation."

She frowned. "Oh no. It'll help eliminate you, won't it?"

He rubbed at his chin as his eyes darkened. He shook his head. "No, Jill. But I think I know how you can help me out with this."

Her eyes lit up. "Oh?"

"Yes," he answered with a smirk. "Do you want to help me, Jill?"

"Of course."

He carefully looked to either end of the corridor to make sure he wasn't seen and firmly took hold of her upper arm. "Then come with me. There's something outside in the carpark you need to see."

~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~

If anyone had been watching the four-man march down the hallway they could have assumed it was a carefully choreographed synchronised dance routine. Walking in pairs and each looking down at something in their hands, the foursome walked identical steps, each stepping in perfect rhythm. Their heads rose at the juncture and turned in identical fashion toward their respective laboratories. Sarah and Jason, who were leading the pack, turned their focus left, while Archie and Keyop, behind, turned their heads right. Without as much as a word they turned their bodies in the same direction as their heads and separated.

It would have been beautiful, had all participants not worn frowns of concentration on their faces.

Sara was, by far, the most aggressive in her stalk toward her Supervisor's office. Her face was hardened with irritation from her discovery, and her entire posture projected a warning that noone approach. Having the Condor in full combat mode stalking beside her wasn't softening the image any. All persons they passed deliberately took one step backward to stay well out of the way.

Sara and Jason made it to Grissom's office less than 90 seconds from the time it took to discover the latest revelation, but it had felt like much, much longer. Both Mark and Grissom greeted them with through the brow stares.

"Griss," she breathed as much as hissed. "We've got something you're really not going to like."

He pulled his glasses from his face and held them off to the side. "If it's any worse news than your last phone call, I really don't want to hear it."

"Marginally," she mused as she tilted her head to Jason in an unspoken request for him to close the door. When she saw his hand fly to the handle to comply she turned back to Grissom. "We believe we found information as to who is responsible for tampering with the evidence. Archie and the Swallow are going to confirm through ideo surveillance footage."

He raised his hand to ask her to wait before continuing. "Who?"

She looked around as if to check who way be listening, and lowered her voice. "Hodges."

Grissom actually coughed in response. "Excuse me?"

She nodded as she stepped forward and handed across three pages from the log-in book with highlighted names on it. "He has no reason at all to be looking at the evidence, yet he's been in three times over the past two weeks."

Grissom ignored Mark peering over his shoulder and replaced his glasses to look at the evidence. His jaw shifted as he noted the times of the visits. "These are during day-shift hours."

"Exactly," Sara confirmed. "This is what initially concerned me. Add to that he's also on the list of potentials, and his intimate knowledge of some of our best kept discoveries …"

"Where is he?" Grissom interrupted.

She shrugged. "Around the lab somewhere, I suppose."

He gave a firm nod. "We need to monitor him until we can get any other evidence on him." There was definite concern in his tone, but his face projected calm. "Perhaps you and…"

"Me," Jason interrupted sharply. "I'll go in with her."

"No," Mark grunted by way of joining the discussion. "Sara and one of her team will do any interrogations."

"No, Skipper …"

Mark's raised hand told him to stop. "After what you pulled against Chris? I don't think so, Jason. Doctor Grissom's teams will be solely responsible for any and all interrogations pertaining to this case. I'm not having you ruining what little chance we have of finding Princess because of your hot headedness."

"We have him, Skipper."

"No," Mark corrected. "We have someone who tampered with evidence on more than one case file. We need to be careful, and I'm sorry Jase, but you aren't."

Jason's face fell into a dark annoyance at his Commander, but he said little to indicate exactly what threat was on his mind. Instead he simply snarled and leaned against the door. "Yes, Commander."

Mark's brow flicked at his second, but he focused his attention on Grissom and Sara. "What are your honest thoughts?"

Grissom said nothing as he looked back down at the papers and compared them against the information Sara had provided him with earlier. Sara, however, didn't hold back.

"It makes perfect sense. He is your classic, stereotypical personality for a serial."

"So am I," Grissom countered without raising his eyes. "Considering what happened with Chris I'd prefer that we have more than him playing around in the Evidence locker."

"In the meantime," Jason snarled from the door, " he could get out of here and go get her."

"No," Grissom breathed. "We have him on evidence tampering. We can hold him for at least 48 hours, which will give us adequate time to analyse everything again."

"So let me get this straight," Jason purred dangerously from the door. "You want to jerk off for the next two days."

"It's not jerking off, Jason," Sara retorted defensively. "It's investigation. You can't rush it."

"Yeah, and meanwhile back at the ranch, Princess abducted and abandoned dies of hypothermia."

That caught Mark's attention. The Eagle narrowed his eyes and rubbed at his chin. "For once I've got to agree with my second. Time is of the essence with this, Doctor Grissom. Princess' life is in jeopardy here."

Grissom pursed his lips and gave a small nod. He looked up at Sara and his eyes narrowed just slightly as if trying to telepathically transmit a message to her. Eerily enough, she gave a pursed lip smile and raised her head to Jason. "Maybe you and I should grab Nick by the ear and drag him to the AV room to analyse the recording of Princess' message."

The top left side of his lip twitched in a curl. "I got a better idea. Let's find this Hodges guy and ram his face into the nearest wall and force him to tell us where she is." He folded his arms across his chest and effectively blocked her exit from the room. "What do you think?"

Her face contorted into a mirror image of a young child really, really, really wanting what they know they aren't allowed to. "Oh God I so want to … No," she corrected herself with a shake of the head. "I must do the legal thing." She sighed hard and dipped her shoulders as she pointed her hand at the doorway. "If you would prefer to stand here and argue with Grissom and your Eagle, then go right ahead. I'm not going to waste more time debating the issue. When it's decided, call me." She held up her cell phone.

Jason's brow flicked and he checked her up and down as the tip of his tongue wet his top lip. "How can I refuse an offer like that from such a beautiful …"

"You know, Condor," Grissom interrupted uncharacteristically sharp. "In my lab that's classed as sexual harassment. Continue it and I will be forced to … uh …"

Jason laughed. "Do what? Write me up? I'm not an employee of the department, so you can't do a thing."

"No," Mark breathed. "But I can. Stick your hormones in your cigarette case and leave Mrs. Grissom alone."

"Actually," Sara moaned, annoyed at the chivalry. "It's Sidle. I never changed my name, and guys," She sighed, smiled and looked at her husband. "Grissom, I can handle myself. I promise you that my virtue will survive Jason intact." Her attention darkened and she slid her eyes to Jason. "Condor, shall we?"

Jason winked and allowed her through the door beside him, following without so much as a word.

Grissom's look was dark as he watched the pair slowly disappear down the hallway. His breath drew in hard and he kept his focus on the door even as he pushed his glasses back onto his nose. "When you're in love with a beautiful woman," he sighed, wondering if the reference might be missed on the young commander.

Mark's eyes were focused on the same spot as Grissom's. His lips barely twitched a smile when he continued where the Doctor had left off. "You know it's hard. Everybody wants her. Everybody loves her. Everybody wants to take your baby home." He let his eyes slide to Grissom's, who was now looking at him with a single raised brow. "Well, it might not be Shakespeare, but truer words have never been written."

"Indeed."

Mark gave a huff of a laugh and lowered his head. "Don't concern yourself with Jason. That's just his way of masking his fear of Princess' situation. He's not exactly your run of the mill and rampant horndog, but when he gets scared, he'll play to the reputation."

"That doesn't exactly ease my concern, Commander."

Mark's eyes slid across to Grissom, and he couldn't help but smile. "Would you rather he test your wife's patience and resolve, or have him running rampant with a military weapon throughout the halls?"

Grissom's brow merely flicked.

Mark tilted his head in a friendly gesture. "Trust her, Grissom. Just because he appears to be offering it doesn't mean she has any intentions or wants to accept it."

"I suppose that is a line you created to convince yourself of the same when he tries this on your Swan?"

Mark's lip lifted as he snorted out a breath of air. "No. He knows I'll rip them off and stuff 'em down his throat if he even looked at her suggestively."

"How couth of you, Commander."

His lips curled into a smile. "I'm in love with a beautiful woman too, Doctor."

As Grissom's mouth opened to respond, a flustered and panicked looking Greg Sanders skidded into his doorway.

"Grissom!"

He immediately shot a glance at the young CSI. "Yes, Greg?"

In all the years Grissom had known Greg, he's never heard the young man utter any form of expletive. The urgency was abundantly clear as he belched out what must have been Jim Brass' message.

"Grissom. You and the Commander need to go downstairs, immediately. There's a situation in the carpark. Hodges has lost his fucking mind!"

~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~

Jill panted and whimpered simultaneously as she wiped at a mixture of saliva and blood on the side of her mouth. She staggered back and adjusted her jaw to assess whether or not it was broken, all the while keeping a reddening eye on her attacker.

"David?" she asked in a meek voice. "I don't understand. Why are you doing this?"

He lunging at her preceded his response. His chest collided against hers and pressed her back onto the door of a black Yukon. "You know why," he snarled, breathed, and hissed all at once as he nuzzled his nose into the air less than an inch from her face. "All they need to do is ask you the right questions and they'll know who I am – What I did."

She whimpered and pushed him off her. Her grunt echoed through the half-empty car park. "I don't even know what you're talking about, David. What did you do?"

His lip curled into a demonic smirk as he glared through his brows at her terrified face. In his hand he held a yellow handled taser with a distinct red evidence sticker across it. He waved it in a silent threat to use it if she dared yell or fight against him any more. "Be a good girl, Jill, and I'll forget that you're a naughty, bad, dirty girl."

Her eyes widened at the weapon and she half gagged. "What are you talking about?"

His lips pursed to kiss at the open space between them, and his eyes were still darkened and peering through brows at her. "Do you want to see her, Jill? Do you want to say goodbye?"

Jill couldn't help but cry. She wasn't a big tough girl like Princess. No matter how many times she underwent defence training with the Swan, she would never be able to remain completely calm and level-headed. Her cheeks burned with tears, embarrassment and pain from his strike.

"Who, David? Who?" she begged, hoping that in some way her compliance might somehow convince him to let her go.

He took a step closer and tossed the weapon up and down confidently in his hand. "Why Princess of course." His head tilted up and to one side so now he regarded her with wide eyes down his cheek at her. "Obviously my plans to take her as mine are shattered – there's no way I could tame the Swan. So I figure I can, perhaps, tame you. I mean, Jill. You and I have history."

She shook as her arms wrapped protectively around herself. "That was one night, Dave. We were drunk."

"Are you saying it meant nothing?"

She nodded, pursing her lips to attempt to maintain some sense of calm throughout this. "Sorry, David, but I just don't feel that …."

"Slut!" he yelled as he whipped a small police issue firearm from his back pocket. "You, and all damn women are nothing but little sluts!"

She gasped and shuffled as far back against the Yukon as was possible. "God, Please!"

"Drop the weapon, Hodges," a familiar gruff voice boomed from behind him, punctuated by the cocking of a similar firearm to the one he held.

He shifted his eyes to the window of the Yukon to confirm the identity of the one who dared interrupt him. "Jim. Glad you're here," he purred, knowing it was highly unlikely that the detective would fall for it. "I think this one…"

"Can it, dirt bag. This is a car park, I've heard everything you've said since I stepped off the damn elevator – and you know how slow I walk."

Hodges kept his back to Brass and spoke to him down his shoulder. "Except where Scotch is concerned."

"Yeah. Scotch and serial freaks." She shifted his bodyweight to the other foot and adjusted his aim. "What kind of idiot goes after the G-Force girls?"

"Girls?" he answered smoothly, not moving from his position, but keeping a fixed stare on Jill. "G-Force has only one girl." His cheek clicked as he sucked in a short breath of air. "And what kind of idiot? I'm not sure, Jim. I don't know what you're talking about."

"I've got a great cure for amnesia, Hodges," Brass purred back, taking his sight off Hodges only for long enough to check on the shaking woman in front of him. "It's called my foot up your ass."

"No, Jim. That's called sexual harrassment," he snorted. "And I'm just not interested, sorry."

"You say that like you have a choice. Now drop the weapon and back away from the girl."

Hodges took a deep breath and ticked his head to one side. "There's a choice in everything, Jim."

"Yeah, did Jill there choose to become your next victim?"

"Next? There was never a first."

Jim snorted and adjusted his aim again. "That's what they all say, Dirtbag. Impress me and say you did it, I might pretend to care and give you a break."

Hodges weighed his options. There was no way he was going to get out of this easy – not unless he had himself a valuable hostage. His eyes narrowed and glassed over at her as his mouth stretched into a smile. "How about I admit that I'm a criminal genius?"

Jill caught the smile and immediately shrank. Her eyes flicked to Brass and pleaded for him to help her. "Please, call Mark," she whispered timidly. "He'll know what to do."

The mention of the Eagle's name drilled into the eyeballs and ears of Hodges. His lip curled high and breath drew in fast. In a move that was quicker than the reaction time of either Brass or Jill, he was on top of her. "Enough of the God Damned Eagle! Is that all you women ever talk about?" he demanded as he grabbed her by the shoulders and flipped her around so that he held her from behind, with his arm across her throat and gun pointed at her temple. "Where's your Eagle now, Jill."

"Hodges," Brass breathed worriedly as he kept his gun high, but raised the other in a quasi-surrendering manner. "Come on, man. There is no need for this. Just let her go."

He growled in a predatory manner and drew his nose up her cheek. "No. Daddy, I want to keep her."

Brass shook his head and relaxed his grip on his gun. "Look. You don't want to piss off the Eagle any more than you already have. You've got the man's girlfriend, isn't that enough?"

"No," he purred as he let his tongue slide up her cheek. "I'm a greedy man."

"Come on. Let her go," Brass tried again, dumping hostility for calm in fear he might piss Hodges off enough to actually use the weapon. "You've got the Eagle here, why don't you just go after him. Leave the girls out of it."

The constant mention of the G-Force hero's name made his eyes and head tick. "This is not about the Eagle, Jim."

"Then what is it?" He growled. "You're targeting the women in his life, dressing up as him, what is it?"

The hand with the gun suddenly shot forward. "This has nothing to do with the God Damned Eagle." He pointed the gun at Brass and held Jill tightly by the throat. "I couldn't care less about the Eagle."

The whispering sound of fractured air ghosted through the air. The sonic whir of the Eagle's boomerang cut the conversation in two as it struck at the softest part of Hodges' forearm. There was barely time for him to yelp out before the wetted flap of a weighted feather shuriken struck and sliced his arm less than half a centimetre from the blade's strike, but perfectly parallel.

"That's good, Hodges," Mark snarled in response to the last comment as he thrust his arm upward to catch the boomerang. "Because I'd hate to think there were any unreciprocated feelings between us."

Hodges released Jill to clutch at his bleeding arm. He staggered backward, his head shaking, "I want my lawyer."

Jill pulled away and stumbled a little before regaining her footing. She immediately launched herself at Mark and buried herself in his chest and arms, pulling his wing around her as if to hide away from the scene.

He stroked at her hair and held her with as much ferocity as she did him. He pointed at the Condor, who was slowly stalking the staggering Hodges, circling him and just waiting for the perfect opportunity to make his own move.

"Jason. The gun."

The comment from Mark made Hodges remember he carried a weapon. He smirked and raised the weapon into the Condor's face. "I want my lawyer," he repeated.

Jason smirked. "Use it," he warned.

"I mean it, Condor. One step closer, and I shoot."

"Don't say it unless you mean it," Jason warned.

"I mean it."

Jason grunted in a disapproving manner and quickly snapped up his hand to snatch the gun from Hodges hand. He pointed it into an empty space in the garage and fired a single shot that was succeeded by a shrill scream, a groan and a startled yelp.

"That," he ordered, "is how you use a gun. You pull the fucking trigger and fire the shot." He tossed it at the ground at Hodges feet. He watched Hodges lower his head to look at the weapon and let out a long breath. Inside the next heartbeat he thrust his hands forward, took hold of his collar, and had lifted him off the ground to shove into the side of a jet-black Denali.

"Now where is she?"

Hodges let out the merest of squeaks in response that turned into a series of wet grunts as the Condor repeatedly shoved him against the vehicle with enough force to lightly dent the door.

"Where is Princess!"

"Jason," Mark warned softly, still calming the weeping woman against his chest. "Drop him. Let Jim and Grissom deal with him."

"No," Jason growled as he gave Hodges another shove into the car. "I'll beat her location out of him."

"Or you'll wind up killing him leaving us in a worse position than we are now."

"Mark …"

"That's an order, Condor."

Jason gave him one last shove for the hell of it and touched nose to nose with his captive. "Thank your stars that Mark's here to stop me killing your puny ass and using a ouiji board to get my answers." He let go of him and let him slump against the door.

He waited until Jason had backed off and seethed a single word through his teeth. "Coward."

Jason took in the insult, let out a laugh, then turned and lay a single, blinding punch to the side of Hodges' face.

~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~

A stern and angered-looking Condor escorted a slowly sobering Hodges toward interrogation. Behind Hodges, and looking fairly timidly at the Condor, were Brass and Grissom. At the very rear of the pack was Mark. Jill was attached firmly to his side, clinging to him as if letting go would toss her back into some form of unseen abyss in hell. Mark didn't seem to mind too much. He seemed all too willing to make sure the petite woman felt as safe as possible. He was heard to whisper gently to her as he cocooned her inside his wing.

Co-workers of three of the procession paused in conversation and strides as the six of them passed silently. There were easily deciphered whispers of confusion, although none made any attempt to confirm, assure, deny or tell them to mind their business.

Actually nothing was uttered until the moment Jason took Hodges by the shoulder and shoved him into the metal chair facing the observation window. Unsurprisingly it was Hodges that broke the non-enforced silence.

"This is police brutality," he cursed as he rubbed his jaw and glared up at Jason. "Don't you think my lawyer won't hear about this."

Jason leaned down and pressed his fists into the tabletop. He lowered his head in perfect timing with the upward curl of his lip. "Try again, dipshit," he snarled. "I'm not a cop so it ain't police brutality."

He attempted to look as defiant as possible as he sneered up at him. "But you're here working with them, so it's the same thing."

Jason snorted and gave him a disgusted once-over as he drew himself to a stand. "Wrong again, Asshole. I'm technically military, I don't exactly come under …"

"Enough, Jason," Mark warned in a strong authoritative tone. "Let Jim and Doctor Grissom talk to him."

"Not much point," Brass snarled as his hands thrust deeply into his pant pocket. "He's already asked for a lawyer. Anything he says between now and the lawyer showing is completely inadmissible."

Jason's eyes slid to Brass. "What. You think I give two shades of shit right now about what's admissible and what's not? I just want Princess back in one piece, screw the legal shit, that's your job." He slid and entire step backward, hoping that distancing himself from the target would lessen the urge to throttle the shit out of him.

He was wrong …

Fortunately Mark had enough of an insight into the innermost workings of the Condor that he shoved him toward the door before the primal urge could take control. He lightly closed the door behind him, pointed him toward the observation room, and for the first time in approximately twenty minutes, the Eagle spoke.

"Don't think for a second that I don't want to ram my boomerang down his throat, Jason."

Jason snorted. "I'd prefer a weaponless approach, Skipper."

Mark shook his head and smiled at the approach of a briskly walking Swan impersonator. "Lola," he breathed thankfully as he gently handed Jill across to her. "Take her to first aid, please. Have her checked over."

Jason let little more than a shift of his eyes show his concern for the woman who ensured the team had nutrition on a daily basis. He waited until the two women left the room and clicked air out of the side of his mouth. "So why, _Commander_?"

Mark heard the distinct facetiousness in the delivery of his rank and knew whatever the Condor was thinking severely questioned the Eagle's manhood. Reluctantly he took position beside him and the window and folded his arms across his chest. "What?"

"Why didn't you act out against this creep?"

"Because shit splatters."

Jason's brow flicked as fast as his head to look at Mark. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Mark let out a long breath and lowered his head. He continued to monitor the silent threesome in the interrogation room. "I'm speaking metaphorically."

"I.e., he's shit and you don't want to get dirty."

"Something like that."

Jason growled as he exhaled, but his voice was calm. "This is Princess' honour, man."

Mark blinked slowly. "I know, Jason. That's the problem. I know that if I start on him I won't stop." He swallowed hard. "I'll kill him."

"Go for it, Mark. I'll help clean up the mess and distract the cops."

Mark actually smirked at the pleading in his second's tone. He answered on a long-suffering exhale. "You know me better than that, Jason."

"Justice first, I know." Jason replied in a disappointed manner.

"You don't call me a boy-scout for nothing."

"I've called you far worse than that."

Mark smirked. "I know."

Silence once again fell upon the pair as they watched the silent trio in the observation room. Both raptors watched with unblinking eyes the man who knew where Princess was being held. They both willed for him to open up and spill everything about the case; but they knew it wouldn't happen. David Hodges was a criminalist and, quite possibly, an expert in laws and legal loopholes. Chances were that he'd be arrogantly strolling out of the precinct in less than 24 hours.

That pissed the Eagle off more than he could possibly fathom.

Jason must have read the rise in temperature in the man next to him. With a short huff of air he attempted to give his Commander a little hope.

"He'll lead us straight to her when he gets out of here, Skipper."

"It might be too late."

Jason groaned long. "You're a pessimistic bastard, you know that?" He finally looked sideways at the man wearing the white wings and blue visor. "Remember who he has, man. He's got our girl, and she ain't gonna let him beat her."

"We don't know what condition she's in right now."

"Judging by her transmission, I'd say she's doing pretty good right at this point."

Mark snorted. "That transmission was almost twenty-four hours ago."

"This means that she's going to be pretty pissed off."

Mark dignified the comment by sliding a tired glare at his second.

So Jason continued. "You know her, Mark. When that little girl gets her shit on…" He let a pause linger as his lips stretched into a demonic grin. "Hell hath no fury, remember. She's a Swan. And …"

"Yes," Mark responded with a bare hint of a smile. "And if you've ever encountered a pissed off swan you know full well they'll fight you tooth and nail."

"Exactly," Jason affirmed with a firm nod. "You've seen her pissed off, Mark. You know she'll get through this if only to spite that smarmy little asshole in there."

Mark had to smile at the thought. "That's my girl."

"Damn straight, Skipper."

"Then," Mark began with a half-chuckle in his voice, "it's a good thing we haven't killed him, yet."

Jason snorted. "Yeah, we should give the honour to her."

As Mark opened his mouth to comment, Archie loudly burst into the room, short breathed and holding his chest as if exhausted.

"I've been looking for the two of you everywhere," he panted as his hand pressed into the doorframe as if to support himself.

Mark's brow rose in time with the slow tilt of his head. "Why didn't you ask the Swallow? He has a communicator." He displayed the watch-style communications device on his wrist.

Archie grunted and waved his hand. "Keyop needed a break, and I didn't want him to see what I'd found."

Jason had to respond to that comment. "You didn't want him to see it? How bad is it that you couldn't show the kid?"

Archie took a cautious look around and stepped into the room. "There's a live feed into the room she's being held. I …" He cleared his throat. "I found it on David's laptop. It was in a hidden icon on his desktop."

Mark swallowed hard. His voice was low, soft and controlled. "How bad is it?"

Archie turned and flicked his fingers to ask them to follow. "See for yourself, Commander."


	9. Chapter 9

"Seven hundred and thirteen, seven hundred and fourteen, seven hundred and fifteen."

Having reached the same figure for the fifth consecutive time, Princess determined that there was, without a doubt, seven hundred and fifteen flower-type images on the ceiling above her bed. She was somewhat proud to admit that she hadn't lost count in any of the five attempts to correctly determine the amount of flowers above her head. She was mortified, however, to find that there were even flowers above her head …

…She hated flowers.

"Fucking flowers," she cursed in a manner so uncharacteristic it made her shudder. "Why a woman would swoon and faint over these awful things, I have no idea." Her breath came in deep, held in her lungs, then expelled slowly carrying along a threat to her lover. "If Mark ever so much as considers the notion to buy me flowers, I'll leave him." Her lips pursed in total agreement with herself. "I'll more than leave him. I'll use my yo-yo and kill him. I'm pretty sure it would fall into the "justifiable homicide" category."

The last word came out inside a yawn.

She was so tired, so very tired. Her implant may have given her the ability to remain alert and focused for days in battle, but it was unable to support her tiring system even enough maintain a working level of sanity. She was slowly losing her mind.

Her eyes raised to her wrists and narrowed.

"Apparently I have freakish superhuman abilities; and the local comic fan-sites suggest I have heat-ray vision …" She sighed and narrowed her eyes as her lip tweaked to one side in a cheeky smirk. "So how do I activate it? Eye-laser sesame?"

Her skin gave a shudder in the cold night air from the window as the mysterious mist blew across her semi-naked body. She flicked her eyes at the window and squinted in an attempt to focus.

"Mark," she whimpered through a total body twitch against the cold. "Don't leave me here to die like this, please."

In her brief unclouded moments she knew she had fairly little time left to fight against the inevitable outcome of her captivity. She was borderline Hypothermic, she could feel it in her muscles and tell by her moments of confusion and insanity. With a Las Vegas night more than already started, she knew it was only going to get colder.

The breeze through the window was so crisp it burned. While not Winter, the season was not quite full spring; so the breeze was crisp and icy. With her shuddering subsiding and her skin numbing, she knew that stage 2 of hypothermia wouldn't be that far off in coming.

She let out a long, long breath and whimpered Mark's name again as her communicator buzzed against her wrist.

"I can't hear you," she moaned in sadness and frustration. "Please stop …" She hicupped and her eyes flashed as it buzzed again, and then again.

A pattern.

She concentrated as hard as she could.

Morse code?

"_P, it's J."_

~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~

Mark wasn't totally sure he wanted to see what had Archie so upset. He knew Archie had probably borne witness to videotaped atrocities far beyond the realm of what any of the G-Force had ever seen; so to have the young Asian investigator panicked at what he was seeing didn't bode too well for his beloved. Fearing he might break yet again, he said nothing as he followed Jason into the room and took a reluctant seat.

"Before you turn that on, Archie, please …" Mark swallowed hard. "How bad is it?"

Archie's eyes gave a slow blink as he leaned forward and turned on the speakers. "You mean in comparison to what I usually see?"

Mark and Jason's eyes widened wide upon hearing the voice of their teammate softly counting through the speakers.

Archie took their silence as an answer in the affirmative to his question, so he continued. "It's unnerving, Commander. There might not be blood, there might not be dead bodies or murder, but to watch her like this and knowing one of my workmates is responsible for putting her through it." He sighed and pointed a remote control at a large flat-screen monitor on the wall. "Well, that makes it the sickest thing I've ever seen."

Mark blinked long lashes quickly over his blue eyes and exhaled a stunned breath as the monitor slowly lit up to show an almost naked Princess lying handcuffed to a large bed. "God, Princess …"

"Where is she?" Jason grunted with only his breath.

Archie could do little but shrug in response. "I'm trying to work on that, but I don't have much in the room that'll give me any clues." He rolled himself into position at the keyboard and cracked his knuckles to begin a new scan of the room. "The décor is a gaudy 70's style, but that only narrows things down to one of those rent by the hour places."

"She looks hurt," Mark sighed above the two other voices. He tilted his head at the image before him and studied her every curve. "She's almost blue."

"Damn it," Jason cursed under his breath. Being Princess' second in the first aid department he knew what she was facing. "At least she's still shivering."

Mark angled his head sideways at his second, but didn't take his eyes off the image on the screen. "Which means what?"

Jason folded his arms across his chest and lowered his head. "Which means she's not as bad as you think she is." He took a breath before adding "yet."

Archie was only partially listening to the two senior G-Force members as he zoomed in and out of small areas of the image on his own screen to attempt to find just a small something that might tell him where they could find her. The only sounds he made were soft ticks of air as his search for clues gave up nothing.

Mark and Jason, however, continued their quiet conversation, both calm, but obviously concerned.

"What is she doing?" Jason asked as he finally focused on the woman and not her state.

"Counting," Mark responded simply.

"Yeah, but counting what?"

Mark snorted. "I fell asleep during mind reading 101."

Jason rolled his eyes and stooped forward to get a closer look at the image. "Can't you trace Hodge's credit cards and shit; you know; find out where he spent the money?"

Archie, finally realizing he was now part of the discussion, shook himself and looked up at Jason with a wane smile. "No good, Condor. We did that already. He must've used cash."

"Damn," Jason muttered in reply as he lowered his gaze to the small random captures of the main image. "Sick bastard has been watching her the whole time."

"Yeah," Archie grunted. "On the Lab laptop."

"Can you trace the feed?" Jason tried.

Archie shrugged. "Been there tried that. You have to remember that this guy is a forensics lab technician. He has access to a world of information and of techs that are more than happy to help him out with a problem."

"Meaning," Jason growled, "that you probably told him how to set this up."

Archie raised his hands defensively. "Hey, he told me it pertained to the serial case and that Grissom needed to know how …" He groaned. "I should have gone to Grissom myself. I knew there was something up with him asking me about the technical stuff."

"Yeah, perhaps you should've," Jason agreed.

Mark's soft voice interrupted the conversation that looked to turn ugly. "Hindsight's 20/20."

"Oh here we go," Jason huffed with a roll of the eyes. "Mr. Philosophical strikes …"

Mark's face darkened and his gaze shot hotly at his second. "Oh can the shit, Jason. Stop pulling your macho argumentative bullshit and focus on finding something to bring her home."

"Oh," Jason snarled defensively. "You want to start something?"

"When we bring her home," Mark ordered as his arm shot upward to point at Princess' image, "Then I'll start any damn thing you want. But right now I want you to stop playing up to reputation and be my second in command." He let the order linger in the air between them for a long second before he slowly lowered his arm and voice. "She needs level heads and no power plays if we want to bring her home."

Jason's lips pursed excessively in response, but he said nothing. Instead they let Princess' soft voice fill the void in conversation.

"Mark. Don't leave me here to die like this, please."

Mark's heart caught in his throat. He couldn't hide the rush of tears that filled his eyes to the lash line. "Oh, baby. I promise you I won't let you die." His voice cracked as he addressed his second. "We have to shelve it and save her, Jase."

Jason agreed with a long exhale. "Does she know we can hear her?"

Archie shrugged at the question. "I doubt it. If she knew she'd probably be trying to help us out."

"Yes," Mark agreed softly. "If she knew we were watching it would probably energize her a little."

"Can't you send her a message over your watch?" Archie offered helpfully.

"No," Jason sighed with a shake of his head. "She's got the communicator on mute, she can't hear us."

"Wow," Archie remarked. "That's something you might want to look at upgrading."

"I hear that," Jason snorted.

Mark's head tilted sideways as he listened to the pair beside him and focused on the love of his life looking helpless and despondent on the monitor on the wall. "She said it buzzes."

Jason curled a lip and nodded. "Yeah, it does. It's kind of like a pag… " He twisted his head to look at Mark in surprise. "You've never muted it?"

"Never needed to," he responded politely. As he ended his response his eyes flew open. "Jase, how's your Morse?"

"Rusty, but decipherable, why?"

"Try to contact her. Let's see if we can start a dialogue and get some information from her."

Jason shrugged a shoulder and began to tap the tip of his index finger into the yellow faceplate of his communicator. "I know for a fact your Morse is better than mine, so why are you asking me to do it?"

Mark took a seat on a chair beside Archie and pointed at one of his stills. "Because I'll be at the keyboard with Archie." He let the side of his mouth curl up into a smirk. "And I know you suck on the computer."

"Unless it's playing Need for Speed, Skipper – That I'm good at."

Mark pointed at Jason's communicator. "Concentrate, Condor."

Jason smiled,at the soft, frustrated voice of Princess' reaction to the first initial buzzes of her communicator – confirmation she was receiving his code. He spoke the message he sent to ensure Mark and Archie knew exactly what he was transmitting.

"P, It's J."

~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~

For the first time since she had discovered the mute feature on her transponder band, Princess welcomed the pins and needles sensation of an attempted contact. Her breath came out warm across blueing lips, slow and relieved.

"I wish I could let you know I could hear you Jase," she managed inside a sigh's exhale. "Please tell me you're on your way."

"_R U OK, P?"_

She had to let out a short chuckle at his "Internet-style" of communication – he was so bad at morse, and so impatient in communication that she knew this would be a tough read for her.

"Oh, Jase," she sighed gently as she raised her hands to her wrists to see if she could find some way of tapping her own communicator to let him know she could hear him.

"_We can C U, Wav hi."_

She gasped in embarrassment and immediately tried to cover herself up. Her shackles clanged loudly against the aluminium bed frame to remind her she was unable to do so. With a sniff and a look around she settled back in to calm.

"Can you hear me too?"

"_S … Ye …."_

"One for yes, two for no, Jason," she said with a smirk. A single buzz gave affirmation to her question. "Where's the camera?"

There was silence, which told her he was probably asking that question to someone at the lab. Then: _"Air vent."_

She looked up to the first of three vents in the room and narrowed her eyes in an attempt at peering in between the slats to see the telltale red led light of a camera. Two short buzzes at her wrist told her to look at the second. A solitary buzz confirmed she was looking at the right one.

"Is Mark with you?" she questioned softly.

He answered with a solitary buzz.

"Tell him I'm sorry, please."

"_Not UR Folt."_

His obvious error made her laugh. "If I wasn't in a life or death situation I'd have to remark on your spelling."

"_yet U do."_

"How close are you to finding me?"

There was an initial moment of silence.

"Jason?"

"_Mark axs How U?"_

"You're skirting the question, Jason; and for God's sake get Mark to communicate. Your Morse sucks!"

She knew that her comment would piss him off, not for the insult, but because he was obviously doing this by order of his Commander. She muttered a quiet apology and tried to shift for comfort on the hard mattress.

~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~

"You heard her Skip," Jason muttered as his arms folded tightly against his chest. "I suck."

Mark's eyes were locked on the image of her tired face on the monitor in front of him. His misdirected glare of annoyance through his brows slowly shifted to the actual target of his frustration. "When this is all over, Jason, you're going back to school."

Jason snorted, thumbed his nose and jutted his chin at the monitor. "You gonna talk to the girl or what?"

Mark let out a breath and flicked the front part of his wing up over his shoulder to free his wrist for communication.

"You stood me up."

His eyes studied her face as the communication sent. He let out a relived breath to see her smile.

"_Sorry Mark, but something came up."_

"How are you holding up?"

She shifted and looked directly into the camera. _"I need you to get me out of here, Mark."_

"I know, Sweetheart," he whispered as he tapped. "We're doing the best we can. Just tell me you're okay."

She nodded and slid her eyes from the camera_. "I'm okay, Mark. I'm just … I feel so stupid and … and hopeless."_

"Damn," Jason cursed under his breath. "I'm right there with you, Prin."

"I hear that," Mark agreed softly as he took a moment to analyse a section of the room. It was when he heard a soft and worried call of his name that he let his attention fall to communication.

"Sorry Princess. I'm doing everything I can to find you…"

"_Multitasking as always,"_ she sighed with a smile. "What can I do to help out?"

"Become Houdini," Jason retorted blandly to the chagrin of Mark. He let his eyes fall to his commander and tapped his fingertip on the table. "Mark, she's getting bluer by the minute, you wanna let me go and tug on the balls of that guy to make him fess to where she is?"

Archie crossed his legs at the comment and let out a meek groan, while Mark actually seemed to entertain the notion for a moment. "Can you think of a less …" he rolled his wrist in the air as if trying to find the right word. "Less … emasculating act than that?"

Jason's lip curled into a pleased snarl. "I'm sure I can think of something."

"Good," Mark ordered firmly, "Go. I'll find out from Princess what I can."

"_Mark? Don't disappear on me, please,"_ Princess begged over the speakers.

His attention shot back to the monitor. "I'm here, Princess. Just doing Commander stuff."

"_Jason again?"_

"Always."

"_Go easy on him, Mark."_ she sighed softly. "_You know he won't cross the line like you think he will."_

"You haven't seen him over the past 24 hours, Prin," he countered almost distractedly as he pointed at something in the window. "Archie, can you zoom in on that?"

Archie gave a nod, a grunt and immediately straightened in his chair to attempt to answer to Mark's request. "Keep her talking, Commander," He urged almost in order, "the mic is sound activated and I need to get as much background noise as possible to help us here."

A sigh came over the monitor, as did a decidedly uncovered yawn_. "Even over Morse I can tell when you've got your mind on something else."_

"Momentarily distracted, Sweetheart," he answered back. "You're always first, you know that."

She giggled softly. _"Liar."_

He smiled but didn't respond. He watched and waited for Archie to work his magic on the image. As it drew close, and the over enlargement created a blurred mess of pixels, Mark's heartbeat quickened.

"Can you sharpen the text on that bottle?" His fingertip went back to the transponderband faceplate. "Has he been drugging you?"

"_I don't think so,"_ she answered carefully as though trying to recall any obvious attempts at drug administration. _"Aside from scraps of food and some water, there has been nothing."_ She took a breath. _"Besides, Mark, we're immune, right?"_

"Not against everything, Princess," he muttered without transmitting. He sighed heavily and pinched his chin between his thumb and the length of his index finger as he watched Archie attempt to sharpen the image of the bottle on the screen. "What do you think, Arch?"

Archie angled his head to one side in concentration and continued to tamper with the image. "Not too sure, Commander. Looks to me like it might be Diazepam …" he paused to clear his throat. "10 mg."

"Shit," Mark responded flatly. "That is one we have no immunity to."

Archie's face stretched into surprise. "Is that deliberate?"

Mark nodded almost in regret. "If you've ever seen the Condor in the dentist chair you'd understand why we need it."

Archie actually smirked at that. "So the Condor really does have a weakness, doesn't he?"

"Several, actually," he replied distractedly as he once again brought his wrist to the table to tap in a message to his lover.

"How are you feeling, Prin?"

She seemed to squirm at the question. "_Haven't you already asked me that question?"_ Rather than waiting for a response, she rocked her head singly from side to side and sighed. _"I'm tired, Mark. My arms and legs feel like lead weights and I'm cold, but I'm lucid enough to know I haven't been drugged."_

"You don't always feel high from Valium, Commander," Archie offered quietly. "If Hodges was smart he'd know how to administer just enough to tame her but not dope her out."

"I'd rather not label him with intelligence, Archie," he flatly retorted. "Taking the woman I love isn't a sign of brilliance."

"Stupidity."

"Exactly."

There was a shrill yelp from the hallway, which made Archie jump and focus his attention on the ruckus. Mark simply ignored it to analyse the room and his future bride a little more closely.

Jason's voice has low, dangerous, and full of command when it boomed from the hallway followed closely by the sound of a body being thrown up against a thick glass wall.

"Unless you want to spend the rest of your pathetic little life eating food through a straw I'd fess up now."

Grissom's command was stronger than Jason's and spoken with far less aggression. "Condor, you're not helping. Let him go."

Brass seemed to agree. "C'mon Condor. We can't do anything until his lawyer gets here."

"Do you think I give a fuck about a lawyer," Jason growled back. "I only care about bringing Princess home."

"Which isn't going to happen anytime soon if you kill him," Brass snarled.

"No, but it'll make me feel much better."

Archie actually gave a small whimper as he watched the image play out beside their room through thick plate glass windows. "Commander …"

"Yes," Mark moaned impatiently.

"Aren't you going to step in or something?"

"No."

"But …"

David's voice ghosted through the scuffling sounds and bounced off the walls in a mocking manner. "I don't know what you're talking about, Condor. Who is Princess; and why would I know how to find her?"

Jason gave him another shove against the wall. "Don't play with me, fuckwit."

Hodges didn't whine he didn't even flinch. All he did was growl and speak over his shoulder. "I'd win the game anyway, Condor."

Grissom seemed to have enough of the commotion inside his lab and popped his head in to the room occupied by Archie and Mark. "Commander, will you?"

Mark let out a long, long breath and pressed the knuckles of his fist into the table to push himself to a slow stand. "I'll be back, Sweetheart," he said softly to the image on the monitor then kissed at the air. His eyes slid to Archie. "Watch over her for me."

"Um, yeah," Archie responded unsurely. "Sure."

Mark said nothing further as he slowly stalked out of the room toward the small group in a standoff only a short distance from the audio lab. His arm snaked out to point at his second in order for him to back off.

"Jason, stand down."

"C'mon, Mark," he moaned in obvious displeasure. "Don't…" His words fell off as he took in Mark's expression – or lack thereof. Immediately recognizing Eagle stalking prey, he backed off with his hands raised. "He's yours, Skipper."

The Eagle didn't utter a word as he ignored the other parties and focused his "through the brow" glare at David Hodges.

Hodges, for his part, stared at the approaching raptor with wide eyes.

Brass opened his mouth to say something, but was silenced by the back of Grissom's hand slapping against his chest. He looked toward his older friend and frowned when he saw him shake his head in warning.

Mark saw none of this. Staring through tunnel vision, the G-Force squad leader zoomed in on Hodges and stalked until he was chest to chest and looking down at him.

His order was simple. "Where is she?"

Hodges' attempt to squirm away from him was halted by the pressure of the Eagle's chest against his. Any response that he wanted to make came out only in short grunts.

So Mark asked again, only this time he tilted his head with aggression and threat. "I'll ask again, where is Princess?"

Brass' voice fractured the uncomfortable murmuring of the hallways. "Commander, let him go. We'll…"

Mark's hand shot to the side, his palm angled up in a firm "stop" motion, which immediately silenced the Police Detective.

Hodges seemed to find reprieve in the apparent defence of the criminalists. He raised his head boldly and snorted against the Eagle's blue visor. "You heard him, Mark. Let me go."

"And you heard me," Mark countered smoothly, undeterred by the spittle marks and fogging left on his visor. "I want to know where my third is being held."

Over his shoulder Jason smirked and snorted in encouragement for Mark to finally act.

Mark ignored it. "You have until I count to three to tell me where you're holding my Swan, or I begin to remove any trace of your sexuality one swipe of my birdrang at a time."

Hodges wasn't fooled. He angled his head to look at Grissom over Mark's shoulder. "Are you actually going to let him do this?"

"One," Mark began coolly.

"I'm not scared of you, Commander," Hodges snarled. "I know you. I know how much you value justice and the American way."

"Two," Mark replied as he unholstered his weapon and let the scrape of metal along metal sound of the blades open add an exclamation point to the word.

Hodges – and every man within earshot of such a sound – shuddered at the suggestion of what was to come at three. Hodges, however, simply curled a lip and gave a laugh. "I'll tell you nothing."

"Three," Mark hissed. He waited half a heartbeat for the count-off to end and pursed his lips in an almost kiss. "I warned you, Mr. Hodges."

Hodges' breath hitched. "You wouldn't."

Mark's answer came swiftly. He shifted back less than an inch, rose his forearm to Hodges' throat and shoved him hard into the wall. In a move quicker than the strike of lightning, he flicked his wrist along his prey's mid-section. His voice smoothly rolled past his lips as his gaze softened upon his victim's face.

"Wouldn't I?"

Hodges took a moment to look at Mark's expression curiously. He frowned and let his eyes disrespectfully roll. "You talk about it …." His words halted abruptly when he saw Mark's hand rise into his field of vision. The royal-blue glove of the G-Force Commander's uniform was now a deep brown-burgundy colour. The stainless steel blades of the weapon were streaked red.

"No sense in talking about it if you aren't prepared to do it," he snarled as he loudly closed the blades just shy of Hodges' mouth.

Silence immediately filled the room as the colour from Hodges' face quickly fell.

Mark watched him with fascination as he slowly looked downward at the location he was sure the cut had been made. "So I am going to ask you again. Where is my Swan?"

Slowed time seemed to speed into real time. Any silence that seemed to deafen all men immediately vanished into hums of electronics, fluorescent lights and onlookers when Hodges shoved a suddenly moveable Eagle far enough away to be able to grab hopelessly at his crotch.

"What are you; a freak? This is insane, this is attempted murder!"

"Where is she?" Mark responded with deliberate ignorance to the man's panic.

"I'm going to bleed to death! Someone do something."

Mark made no move as Hodges' fell to his knees, his hands cupped at his crotch to attempt to stop the bleeding. "Tell me."

Hodges raised his head. "You kill me, she dies. You have no hope of finding her."

Mark's head ticked to one side. "She dies, you die," he promised as his hand clutched a fistful of Hodges' hair to drag him to a stand. "And noone will stop me, right Jason?"

"Damn straight," Jason confirmed with a snort.

A voice of opposite gender to the occupants of the hallway suddenly gasped through the din.

"Oh my God."

All eyes shifted to Catherine, who had found herself at the monitors beside Archie and Sara. She had her hand over her mouth as she looked toward Grissom.

"I … I know that place."


	10. Chapter 10

Grissom was the first to move toward the Audio Visual Lab. He pushed his glasses up onto his nose as he walked and looked toward the monitor rather than immediately ask Catherine what she was talking about. His expression didn't shift at the sight on the screen, but his voice held the slightest hint of excitement when he spoke.

"How do you recognize it?"

Her hand was still over her face and seemed to press harder as the pressure in the room shifted to tell her that others had quickly entered. "I was there," she managed in a muffled voice. "Nearly two years ago."

"Crime scene?" Grissom asked in a low tone.

Her head shook and her hand seemed to finally release its hold on her mouth. "I had Sara process the scene for me. I was drugged and …" She looked toward Grissom, whose eyes were locked on the young woman in the image. "Gil, don't you remember?"

Grissom shook his head and dared look at the party gathered behind them. His eyes pierced past Mark and Jason toward Hodges. "I never saw the photographs Sara took of the scene, but I recall the incident."

Jason followed Grissom's gaze and let his eyes steel into Hodges. "Was it him, Catherine?"

She flicked her eyes to Hodges, then looked up to Jason. "No."

Sara took a breath and checked her hip for her weapon. "It wasn't even officially logged into our databases. I processed this one as a favour to Catherine." She caught the flick of Catherine's head as she nodded in agreement out of the corner of her eye and took a few steps backward. "How did he even know about this one, Cat?"

"I don't know, Sara."

Mark wiped the blades of his weapon along the red lining of his wing so didn't raise his eyes to anyone in the room. "Not very creative is he?"

Jason tilted his chin toward Mark, but kept his eyes on Catherine, who had begun to zoom the camera lens toward the window. "Was that supposed to be a joke, Skipper?"

Catherine waited until she heard the snort from Mark before she leaned back off the table and circled her finger on the screen. "The complex is pretty big, considering the costs of staying there. It has around four storeys. If we can try to make out any of the landmarks outside the window, then we can narrow our room search to a specific floor."

Sara licked at her top lip. "I already have a feeling I know which room it is."

Catherine nodded. "Let's make sure before we bust in and interrupt a legitimate couple enjoying their by-the-hour stay."

Mark strode up behind her and set his weapon in its holster. "Can't we just ask the front desk?"

Jason agreed. "Might be faster than trying to work it …"

Catherine interrupted him with a short breath. "Got it. Ground floor to the rear of the complex."

Mark's brows shot up into his helmet. "Tell me you also have the room number, Catherine, and I'll kiss you."

She was tempted to pucker up and accept a kiss, but kept to simply sweeping her hair over her ear. "Exactly as Sara suspected. Same room I was in."

Jason shot his glare back to Hodges, who was still whimpering on the ground. "You sick asshole."

Catherine swept past him on a mission to rescue their victim. "I'll find time to be sickened later, Condor. Let's just go get her."

The exodus out of the room and into the streets of Las Vegas was halted by three figures blocking the doorway.

Grissom stood to the front of the group with his clipboard against his chest and his glasses down his nose. He looked at the group over the top of his glasses before he slowly pushed them back into place. For the briefest second it looked as though he was going to attempt to stop them completely, but before either the Eagle or Condor could comment, the Entomologist looked toward his wife.

"Sara, you ride with the Commander and I in the Denali. Catherine, you, The Condor, Nick take the Yukon. I want full kits in those vehicles. We process immediately."

Jason actually thought to argue with that directive as they all pushed their way through the door into the hall. "Doctor. I'll take my car, thank you."

Grissom shook his hear and spared a glance at Hodges as they passed. "Absolutely not."

"And who are you to stop me?"

Grissom palmed the door to the garage to open it. "Noone, Jason, however I am sure your Commander will agree that less is more in this case. We take only two vehicles."

Mark agreed – if somewhat reluctantly. "The G-2 remains here, Jason. It's easier for us to go with them."

Jason sneered as he strode past Nick and snatched the keys from his fingers. "Then I'm driving." He pointed at Catherine. "You better be a hell of a navigator, Cat."

"I've loaded the information into the GPS unit."

Jason sucked air in through the side of his mouth as he flopped in to the seat and adjusted the rearview mirror. "GPS can never keep up."

Her head flicked to Grissom as she opened the passenger door. "Gil. I'm scared."

Grissom smirked and clipped his seatbelt. "Reputation again, Mark?"

Mark answered distractedly, annoyed that there wasn't a hurried and explosive departure out of the building. "No, Doctor. Driving is something the condor never jokes about."

Both Sara and Grissom inhaled gulps of air as the sound of squealing tires and a roaring six-cylinder engine being forced to act like it was an eight, exploded past them.

"Guess not," Sara squeaked as she pressed her foot into the floor to attempt to keep up.

"ETA?" Mark asked softly in a vain attempt to remain calm.

"Five minutes," Sara strained as she took a corner in third gear. "Although if Jason has anything to do about it, we'll be there in one."

Mark nodded and stared out of the window. "I'm coming, Sweetheart," he whispered softly into his own reflection in the window.

"Commander," Grissom breathed in a tone of voice much like Anderson would use preceding a lecture.

Mark shifted his eyes to Grissom and blinked in acknowledgement. "Yes?"

"Your attack on the suspect; it may harm our case."

Mark's lips pursed and he looked back at the window. "Right now that is the least of my concerns, Doctor." He let out a long breath. "All I want to focus on is finding Princess. The logistics and reprimand for my actions and their effect on the case can wait."

"I would have expected more control from you."

Mark actually had to laugh. "I think I was more than controlled throughout this investigation, wouldn't you?" He didn't wait for Grissom to answer, not did he give Sara a chance to stop the car before he had the door open and leapt toward Jason and Catherine.

His voice was a dark command when he finally spoke. "Which room, Catherine?"

Catherine looked with wide eyes toward Grissom in question as to whether or not they should wait. "Uh…"

Sara answered for her with a flick of her wrist. "That one, Commander. Room 121."

Mark shared a look with Jason. "Thank you, Sara." With a flick of the chin, both Mark and Jason rushed the front door. Their shoulders impacted simultaneously, which gave more than enough force for the hinges to splinter, buckle and then break.

"Princess!" Mark yelled in a desperate voice. "Sweetheart, are you here?"

Jason stilled as if trying to isolate her voice from the din and ado from the doorway that was making this particular room very noisy. He spun and pointed at the door. "Someone shut off those sirens and …"

"Mark!"

Her voice stole the words from his mouth and set Mark into immediate action. He kicked at a door and leapt blindly into the room. "Princess!"

He didn't take a second to survey the scene, nor her current position. As soon as he located her, he leapt. He was inside the room and onto the bed within two seconds of hearing her call to him. He removed his helmet and dropped it to the floor as his hands cupped her face, touched at her shoulders and then ran up her arms. "Honey, are you okay?"

All she could do was nod – and cry – as she tugged at her restraints. "Mark, please just get me out of here."

He nodded quickly and let his tears spill as he rattled the chains of her cuffs. "Please. Someone undo these."

Sara heard the absolute urgency in his voice and didn't bother to adhere to policy as she slid to the bed and petted her vest down for her own set of cuff-keys. "Are you okay, Swan?"

Princess panted and continued to tug at the cuffs in impatience. "Please, just get me out of these." She could feel the shackles release at her feet by another criminalist and wondered painfully why the wrists were taking so long.

Mark seemed to be suffering the same confusion. "Sara, please." He rattled the chain harder. "Please."

Sara closed her eyes over her own tears at the truly pathetic whine in his voice. Like that of a child begging for his favourite toy, his pleading pierced a last thread inside her and she felt herself fall apart in time with the rolling click of the releasing cuff.

Princess felt her freedom and threw herself up into Mark's chest before Sara had a moment to move to the other cuff. With enough freedom to be able to hold Mark painfully around his neck, she collapsed into him.

"I thought you'd never find me," she sobbed into his shoulder as she felt his hold on her tighten and lift her to her knees.

"Neither did I."

Sara sniffed and wiped at her cheeks as she took the duvet and drew it up over Princess' shoulder to both give her some dignity and to warm her up. She gasped in shock when she felt Mark tightly clutch at her hand. She looked up into his red-rimmed and tear swollen blue eyes.

"Thank you, Sara," he breathed in genuine gratitude.

She nodded and attempted to pull her hand from his and was surprised when he only held on to her tighter and pulled her hand toward his chest.

"I owe you my life," he croaked before she could respond.

"You owe me nothing," she assured softly.

He released her hand with a slow blink of his eyes and buried himself into Princess. Together, Mark and Princess wept into each other – a weeping that seemed to escalate as Jason moved in and joined the circle.

Sara slid off the bed and seemed to pout out her lower lip as she joined her own team at the door. She used both hands to wipe at her eyes. "It's over," she breathed in a breath more upset than relieved.

Grissom slid his eyes to her and licked unsurely at his lip as he fought the desire to comfort her. "No, Sara. Our job is only just beginning."

Chief Anderson's voice slid without emotion into the conversation. "No, Doctor Grissom. Your job is at an end. This will become our case from here." He pre-empted the argument. "Unfortunately for your investigation, it must be handed across to the Federation. Your man abducted a G-Force member, which, as you know, carries a compulsory and non-negotiable life sentence." He took a moment to inhale a long and emotion heavy breath. "Your victims will see justice – of that I assure you."

He knew that to argue would be futile – the FBI operated in much the same manner. "I understand, but request that my team be respected and provided with regular updates as to your own investigation."

"I would expect the same also," Anderson replied softly. "I thank you and your team for your work in ensuring the Swan's safe return. I am sure my team will find a moment to offer their own thanks."

Catherine interrupted with a soft sigh as she tilted her head to the trio still embracing ahead of them. "That's thank you enough for us, Mr. Anderson." She lightly slapped the back of her hand against Grissom's chest and nodded to the doorway.

"Breakfast?"

Sara opened her mouth and nodded. "As long as there's coffee involved."

Catherine stooped to pick up her kit and took a last look at the young G-Force team on the bed. "I know just the place that'll Irish it up for you."

"Works for me," Brass snorted.

Without even a second look the CSI team walked out of the room, each member carrying their own mixed feelings about the case, the victims, the perpetrator, and the conclusion. The only thing each of their minds silently agreed upon was that they'd never see that mighty, strong, invincible and bullet proof G-Force team in the same way again.


End file.
